


The Hardest of Hearts

by LSquared80



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gun Violence, Mentions of other characters like Cersei, Minor Character Death, No Incest, The West Wing meets You've Got Mail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSquared80/pseuds/LSquared80
Summary: Brienne is Renly's campaign manager and Jaime is on Tywin's payroll as both men run for president. Brienne and Jaime dislike one another, unaware they are falling in love with each other via a dating app as they cross paths on the campaign trail.





	1. Kickoff

**Author's Note:**

> The politics of the United States are mashed up with the politics of Westeros. Better not to think about it too much. For the sake of the story, there are no political parties - just several candidates running against each other. Although I think it's fairly obvious where they would fall. ;)
> 
> This idea came to me suddenly and I wanted something different to work on in between chapters of my other story. If you're sick of real life politics, don't worry - the focus is on the J/B relationship!

Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks  
And the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts  
-Florence + the Machine 

Sounds of a celebration were muffled by the glass walls of Brienne’s office. She sat behind her desk with a stack of files and over six hundred unread emails, watching her colleagues toast champagne in biodegradable paper cups. She opened the top drawer of her desk, searching for a protein bar, when something sharp pricked her thumb. The culprit was a round pin-back button with the words _Vote for Baratheon_ printed across the front. 

Brienne removed the button and held it on the palm of her hand. She had saved it from Renly’s first major campaign, when she was only a volunteer and he had ambitions of being a Councilman for Storm’s End. It was impossible to fathom she was currently the Campaign Manager of his presidential run – first publicly announced an hour earlier and the cause of the loud music and drinking taking place outside her office. 

The door popped open and she looked up to see Renly holding a cup in each hand. “Are you okay, Brienne?” he asked. 

She nodded and dropped the button back in the drawer, closing it as she stood. “Yes, fine,” she told him. 

Renly walked further into the small space and let the door shut behind him. “Did something happen I should know about?” 

Brienne shook her head. “No, nothing. I’m not much for parties, that’s all.” 

“This is not any old party. And we certainly wouldn’t have anything to celebrate if it weren’t for you.” 

Her cheeks brightened and she felt the blush crawl down her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt. 

“One drink?” Renly asked, offering one of the cups. 

Brienne smiled but her response was interrupted by a knock at the door. She saw Margaery Tyrell Baratheon – his wife of only two weeks – beckon Renly back to the party. The other woman was petite with lustrous, long hair and diminutive features. “It’s alright, go,” Brienne told him. “I was about to head out.” 

Renly hesitated for her benefit before exiting the room and letting his wife lead him back to the party. 

The door to her office sealed shut. Brienne caught her own reflection in the glass. The first word that came to mind was _haggard_. Her complexion was ruddy from hours of stress and exertion – literally running between headquarters and the hotel ballroom where Renly made his announcement, pacing behind the stage as he spoke. The circles under her eyes were the color of an old bruise. 

Brienne slung her backpack over her shoulder and turned off the lamp on her desk. She left her office and exited the floor from the back exit to avoid explaining her sour mood. She should have been thrilled; she believed in Renly and knew he was the best person to lead Westeros. 

* 

“My flight is cancelled,” Jaime shouted into the phone. 

“Unacceptable,” Tywin responded. 

“Odd as it may be, it’s storming in Storm’s End.” 

Tywin was silent, disapproving of his son's use of sarcasm. 

“If I rent a car it will take just as long as waiting to fly out tomorrow,” Jaime explained. “I’m sorry, dad.” There was still no response. “I’m sorry, Senator Lannister.” 

Tywin’s breath rattled on the other end of the line. 

“Look at it this way, if I stay another night, I can get an early start on digging up dirt on your new opponent. I’m bound to catch Renly getting his dick sucked by some young, _male_ intern.” 

“Call in the morning,” Tywin said. 

The line went dead and Jaime slid his phone into the inside pocket of his suit coat. He had spent the day trying to delay Renly Baratheon’s campaign from announcing his bid and stealing the spotlight from his father’s recent uptick in the polls. Failure left him famished, and his eyes searched the street for a place where he could satisfy his hunger and escape work – and Tywin’s disappointment – for a brief time. 

* 

Every television in the bar broadcasted a sporting event, which was exactly what Brienne sought when she left the campaign headquarters – an escape from politics. She needed a different environment to collect her thoughts and distract herself. 

The Cabernet she ordered had a spicy flavor profile and the black pepper tickled her throat. Brienne took several drinks from her water glass and perused the drink menu for something milder. She decided on a Pinot Noir and scanned the dining area while she waited, taking note of the many couples that occupied the tables and booths. She was alone at a small, circular table near the bar, and it reminded her of something Renly had told her about earlier in the week. 

Brienne removed her phone from her pocket and set it on the table. She had agreed, after much protestation, to download a dating app. It was so exclusive that it did not have a name – there was simply a solid black icon on her screen. “It’s invite only. People who need to maintain a strict level of privacy,” Renly had explained. “Successful actors, well known musicians. Politicians.” 

If Margaery wasn’t enough to convince Brienne she never had a chance at reciprocated love with Renly, his cajoling her into signing up for the app was. Perhaps that was the source of her odd sadness; she had always imagined standing beside Renly, raising their joined hands in victory, as his top advisor and First Lady. 

She tapped the icon and viewed the profile she had begrudgingly created. The only reason Brienne was remotely interested in giving it a shot was that, unlike other dating sites, members were discouraged from including photographs and real names. "The point,” Renly had explained, “is to only reveal personal information when you are ready. You’re supposed to get to know people for their truest selves, not their career or looks.” 

In truth, it sounded perfect for her. The start of a major presidential campaign was not the right time to be looking for a relationship, but Brienne needed something or someone to occasionally distract herself from work and unrequited love. She needed to move on from the idea of ever being more to Renly than she already was. 

* 

Jaime ran until he was under the awning of a bar. He shook the water from his umbrella and opened the door, assaulted by the stench of beer and fried foods and the sounds of baseball fans cheering. _Perfect_, he thought, wanting nothing more than to escape thoughts of his father and the campaign. It was the sort of establishment Tywin Lannister would detest. 

He spotted an open table near the bar and claimed a stool. He set his umbrella and duffel bag on the seat of the empty stool across from him. The only other table was occupied by a man in a suit and Jaime was grateful not to be seated near obnoxious college students or cozy couples. He ordered a beer and set his phone on the table. 

Jaime’s brother had convinced him to join an exclusive dating service the previous week, and needing a distraction, he pressed the black icon on the screen. He had eighteen new messages and read each one, rolling his eyes and deleting most before reading them in their entirety. The service was so exclusive that many women revealed little more than their age and approximate location. The lack of information given was comical. He began to scan profiles and stopped to read one that had caught his eye once before, belonging to a woman who called herself Sapphire. 

_Single woman in her early thirties. Tall. Career-minded. Hobbies include fencing and riding horses. Too busy for dating and friends – looking for either, hoping to find both in one person._

He could relate to being career-minded and being too busy for relationships of any kind. He liked the notion of meeting a woman who could be both a lover and best friend, though he’d settle for one or the other. The hobbies were unique, and if he hadn’t joined the family business, Jaime would likely be drowning in gold medals for fencing. But it was the _tall_ that had him hooked. There was no mention of eye color or hair color. The one physical detail she chose to highlight was her height, and he closed his eyes and imagined a pair of long, strong legs wrapping around him. 

Jaime licked his lips and began typing a message. 

* 

Brienne’s phone buzzed. She hated to look, expecting to be called back to the office, but saw that she’d received a message on the dating app from a man using the moniker Lion. She nervously chewed her bottom lip before clicking on the notification and reading the message. 

_From: Lion  
To: Sapphire _

_Have you ever ridden a horse_ while _fencing?_

A bark of laughter escaped Brienne’s mouth. She thought about a response when another notification popped up on her screen. She heard the man behind her say, “Fuck, no,” and wondered if he’d received the same news alert or was simply angry at the baseball game. 

Brienne waved for the bartender’s attention. She and the man behind her both called out, “Change the channel,” and she twisted on her stool to look behind her. The man was handsome – golden, thick hair and a chiseled face and striking green eyes. He looked as frustrated as she felt. “WNN,” she told the bartender. 

Jaime blinked, taken aback as he realized the person seated in front of him was a woman. Her yellow hair was no longer than his, and she had broad shoulders and wore a blazer he had taken for a suit coat. He mirrored her posture, turning to face the nearest television. 

The bartender changed the channel to Westeros News Network. The image on the screen was of a woman behind a podium, beside her husband. Seven people – ranging from a toddler to young adults – stood behind them. The woman was Catelyn Stark, and the scroll at the bottom of the screen matched the news alert both Jaime and Brienne had received on their phones. _Catelyn Stark announces presidential run._

“Shit,” Brienne said under her breath. She stood from her seat, pulling up her call log to dial Renly when he began calling her first. “Yeah,” she answered, “I’m watching now.” She gestured for the bartender to turn the volume up and she walked to the bar, closer to the television screen. 

Beside her, Jaime stood, furiously pressing buttons on his phone until someone answered. “Are you seeing this?” he bellowed. “Catelyn fucking Stark.” 

Their conversations calmed, and as they both ended the calls, they looked at one another. Jaime and Brienne were the only two people in the bar not wearing jeans and T-shirts with the logo of their favorite team. They were the only two people who did not care about the homerun that was just scored. 

“Who do you work for?” Jaime asked. 

Brienne narrowed her eyes. She hesitated before responding, “I’m Renly Baratheon’s campaign manager.” 

He glowered at her. 

“Well? Who do you work for?” she prompted. 

“I’m Tywin Lannister’s son and his Research Director.” 

Brienne’s chest tightened. She knew what that meant – opposition research – and she knew his name. “Jaime Lannister,” she snarled. “You ran Aerys Targaryen’s re-election campaign into the ground. Some would say you killed him.” 

Jaime bristled at her words. He took a step closer to her, but unlike with most people, his height was not imposing to her. 

“I’m Brienne Tarth. The future Chief of Staff for the next President of Westeros,” she said. 

“We’ll see about that, Brienne Tarth,” he told her. “I don’t see Renly lasting through the primaries.” 

She scoffed. “He’s quite popular with the eighteen to twenty-five crowd.” 

Jaime laughed. “Yes, the young men flock to him.” 

Brienne started to walk away but stopped, pivoting on her heels. She ended up standing closer to him than she had been. The smell of his cologne – warm and woodsy – overpowered the beer and food and melody of odors from the other patrons. It took her a moment to find her words. “His health care initiative is going to change the world,” she barked. “Renly Baratheon is the most noble candidate Westeros has had in centuries.” 

“You must be new to politics if you can say bullshit like that,” Jaime remarked. He caught the way she winced and he almost regretted his comment. She looked rather young, yet to be tarnished by all of the deceit and machinations. Her height was the only remarkable thing about her body, but he was momentarily transfixed by the hue of her eyes. They were a shade of blue he had only ever seen standing on the shores of the most pristine beaches. He cleared his throat and said, “No one is noble. Not even Catelyn Stark.” His shoulder bumped hers as he passed her to gather his sparse belongings and march to the door. 

* 

Her apartment smelled musty. Brienne had been sleeping on the sofa in her office and showering at the gym across the street. She opened a window to breathe fresh air into her home, then opened the fridge and surveyed the sparse offerings – moldy cheese, expired yogurt, raw chicken she did not feel like cooking, and half a cheesecake. She popped the lid on the container to sniff the dessert. Deeming it acceptable, she grabbed a fork and carried it with her to the table. 

The cheesecake was creamy and sweet and she did not think about the bump in the road that was Catelyn Stark or about Jaime Lannister and his smarmy father once while she ate it. Brienne even picked up the leftover crumbles of crust with her finger until the container was clean. She sat a moment, letting the food digest, and felt a renewed sense of excitement. Meeting Jaime had reminded her why she championed Renly and wanted to serve the country at his side in whatever capacity she could. 

Brienne grabbed her phone and dialed Renly. It went straight to voicemail and she left a message, speaking too loud and too fast. “I’m sorry for my attitude tonight. I think I’m just tired. Don’t lose any sleep over Catelyn Stark and especially not Tywin Lannister. You’re the best candidate. You’re the best choice. We’re going to make sure everyone knows that!” 

Satisfied, she ended the call, and noticed an alert from the dating site. She had four new messages, but only cared to respond to one. 

_To: Lion  
From: Sapphire _

_I have, to an extent, fenced while riding a horse. I spent several summers at a medieval camp for kids and learned to joust. The sword was plastic but the horse was real. _

_How do you spend your time outside work?_

* 

The elevator doors opened directly to the penthouse suite. Jaime let the strap of his bag slip to his elbow and slide further until the duffel landed with a smack on the floor. He was as careless with the umbrella and walked further into the room as he wrestled out of his coat. 

The room had been reserved by Tywin’s assistant, and it was more the eldest Lannister’s style – regal and opulent. The color scheme was reminiscent of the rooms in the home Jaime grew up in – rich reds and antique golds and dark wood. Fit for a king. He walked to the bedroom and found it was no more appealing to him; the bedspread was gold brocade to match the heavy drapes. 

He loosened the knot in his tie and sat on the edge of the bed. He should be grateful for the suite and the job. The only reason he had any work to do at all was because of his father. Jaime was otherwise a disgrace to politics. The way Brienne Tarth sneered his name and looked at him with disdain was how everyone outside the family – and several in it – spoke of him and looked at him. The more he dwelled on his encounter with the odd woman, the more he realized it was energizing, and reminded Jaime why he’d gone into politics in the first place. It had nothing to do with his father and everything to do with the rush of high stakes, battles of wit and words with educated, interesting people, and fighting to prove your ideals made the most sense for the greater good. 

Jaime found his phone and opened his newest message from the dating app. He was reveling in the anonymity for his own benefit, but found it difficult to know so little about his pen pal. 

_To: Sapphire  
From: Lion _

_Apparently, when I’m not working I like to send messages to you._


	2. Scandal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the candidates prepare for a debate, scandal threatens Renly's campaign; Jaime and Brienne verbally spar by the hotel pool. 
> 
> _"You want to see the good in people.”  
“I don’t see the good in you,” she retorted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! This has been a lot of fun to write, and it's great knowing people are enjoying it.

“The best I can hope for is getting on her ticket as VP,” Renly said, sliding a beer down the length of the conference table. 

Brienne caught the bottle and took a generous swig. “Don’t say that,” she scolded him. “We’re not dead in the water. Stark has a lot of supporters but she got into politics later in life. She doesn’t have as much experience as her _youngest_ opponent.” 

Renly smiled and raised his bottle to her in a silent salute. 

She startled at the sound of a male voice calling out, “Renly!” She had been under the impression they were the only two left in the office, but suddenly Renly’s brother-in-law was darkening the doorway. 

“Ready?” Loras Tyrell asked. 

“Uh, y-yes,” Renly stammered, looking surprised. He drained what was left of his beer. He stood and draped his suit coat over his arm. He looked at Brienne and said, “Loras is staying with me and Margaery.” 

Brienne happened to know Mrs. Baratheon was out of town, but there was no reason to think it odd of Renly offering their couch to his new family. She stood to say goodnight and watched the two men leave. She collected the empty bottles and carried them to the small kitchen to rinse and add them to the recycling bin. She felt her phone vibrate and removed it from her pocket to see one new message on the dating app. 

She was only corresponding with one man. In less than a month, Brienne learned Lion had never been married and had no children, liked to travel (especially if there was a beach nearby), and considered himself athletic and outdoorsy, although he never turned down a stay at a five-star island resort. They shared six of the same ten most beloved movies and had both been to the same Red Keep reunion concert three years earlier in Dorne. She was dreading when the conversation would inevitably take a turn toward matters of sex; Brienne had a miniscule amount of experience and was still a virgin. 

In the past, she had told men her lack of a sex life was due to going right from intense schooling to an intense career. It wasn’t untrue, but her status had more to do with pining for Renly and society making her feel too tall and muscular and masculine. Brienne eventually avoided men and dating altogether as she began to feel her inexperience was going to chase them away regardless. 

She sat down in the small, dim kitchen and opened the newest message. 

_To: Sapphire  
From: Lion _

_I would give anything for a vacation. If I sent a plane for you right now, where would you want to go? Why?_

She considered how to respond when an alert popped up on her screen. It was a text message from the deplorable but nice smelling Jaime Lannister. He had managed to get her number after they met in the bar, and he enjoyed trying to provoke her with annoying messages. _Is Little Baratheon ready for the big debate?_

Brienne heaved a sigh. Members of the press had dubbed Renly “Little Baratheon” since his older brother, the sitting president Robert Baratheon, was known for being rather robust. It also amplified his boyish features and young age. She was certain Jaime had been the first to use the nickname. She typed and erased a response. Typed and erased. Typed and erased. She needed to go home and pack for the morning flight to Bitterbridge for the debate, but she wanted to respond to the most obnoxious Lannister first. 

With her mind blank, Brienne decided to reply to Lion instead. 

_To: Lion  
From: Sapphire _

_Could you? Send a plane? I have to see someone I dislike greatly tomorrow and would rather be in Sunspear. Sipping Sangria. Because it’s always warm and never rains. And you can take a boat to the Stepstone islands where you can’t get a signal and there’s no Wi-Fi._

She sent the message and closed her eyes, picturing a private plane on the runway. She could imagine a man waiting for her from his seat by the window. Brienne knew he would be tall and strong and golden, but she couldn’t see his face. Even so, the idea of running off with him frightened her in an exciting way. She was intrigued and felt hopeful and like, just maybe, this one could be different. As opposed to the way Jaime Lannister made her feel – enraged, frustrated, disgusted. 

* 

The plane was set to take Jaime to Bitterbridge. He had arrived early to place several phone calls he’d been dreading. There were aspects of his job that made him feel lousy, almost evil. He’d made choices in his past that made everyone, including his own father and sister, think he was up to the task of performing the campaign’s dirty work. 

Jaime tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to chase away the beginnings of a headache. He turned his mind back to the most recent message he’d received from Sapphire and closed his eyes to picture the sand and Summer Sea. He conjured an image of a tall, leggy blonde in a bikini and removing said bikini with his teeth. He had to shift in his seat as his cock began to stiffen. A text message from Brienne Tarth pulled him out of the fantasy but, helpfully, killed his erection. 

Jaime rolled his eyes at the message and switched to the dating app without replying to Brienne. He could hear his father boarding the plane and quickly typed a response. 

_To: Sapphire  
From: Lion _

_I like the way you think. I was going to suggest sailing to The Arbor, but your message changed my mind. Too bad it can’t be real... I’m out of town for work. Might not be able to talk much for a day or so. Send me another travel fantasy of yours so I have something to look forward to._

“Jaime, I hope you’re typing an email to the press secretary,” Tywin said, looming above his son. 

“Father,” Jaime greeted him curtly. He set his phone on the seat beside him. “I sent the intel to Myranda an hour ago. If you turn the TV on, the scroll on WNN should be that Renly Baratheon was caught kissing his new bride’s brother.” 

* 

The plane landed and a flight attendant gave Brienne’s shoulder a nudge. She woke with a start and immediately found her phone to take it out of airplane mode. There was a dizzying number of alerts and she had to exit the plane before she could sort through them. 

Her phone buzzed and Renly’s picture flashed on the screen. Brienne answered and was met by panic as he asked, “Brienne, where the hell are you?” 

“I just landed.” 

“Did you see? Have you seen?” 

“Seen what? I just landed, Renly.” 

He groaned in frustration. “Look at your phone. Please.” 

Brienne found a place to sit and swiped to bring up her notifications. She drew in a shaky breath at the texts, emails, and news alerts. The headlines were all a variation of _Renly Baratheon Caught Kissing Brother-in-law_ and most included the photographic evidence – Renly and Loras locked in a steamy embrace. She zoomed in on the photos, breathing through her own conflicted personal feelings before she could view them in work mode. But there was no way to spin the pictures; they were most definitely in a romantic clinch and in no universe was either one of them trying to perform CPR. 

“Renly,” she sighed. “I saw.” 

“We’re dead, Brienne. I’m dead.” 

“Don’t say that,” she warned him, although her heart hammered in her chest. 

It sounded as though he threw something against a wall. 

“I’m going to hang up and call media, okay? Yara will know what to do next,” Brienne told him, and she ended the call before he could respond. Only she did not call media right away. She stumbled to the nearest chair and let it catch her fall. She closed her eyes and breathed through the shock. She wondered if Margaery knew. Jaime Lannister seemed to know; he’d hinted more than once that Renly was attracted to men. She wondered if she was the only person who _didn’t_ know. 

* 

The Lannister family owned a home near the site of the first debate in Bitterbridge. The long, circular driveway was crammed with limousines and SUVs. Jaime had to be dropped off at the gate. He hesitated before making his way to the front door where several men wearing similar suits were stationed. He knew the cars and the agents meant his sister, the First Lady of Westeros, was inside the house with her husband, President Robert Baratheon. 

“There you are,” Cersei said when she saw him. She clapped her hands. “Bravo on scoring those photographs of Renly.” 

He ignored the sentiment. Jaime wasn’t feeling all that great about his role in the pictures being taken and published. He didn’t know why, but over the course of the last month he’d grown uncomfortable by his family’s refusal to ever play fair and nice. He was tired of taking the blame for every terrible thing his father and sister thought to do. “What are you doing here?” he asked. 

Cersei was offended by the question. “It helps father to have us here,” she said. “The optics are good.” 

“I’m not so sure of that,” Jaime retorted. It was Cersei and Robert who initially suggested Jaime and his team investigate Renly’s sexual preferences. The man’s _own brother_ happily tried to tank his run at the presidency. It didn’t sit well that Cersei and Robert, two people who had never been faithful to their vows for a single day of their marriage, wanted to end a family member’s political aspirations for not coming out of the closet. 

Jaime looked from his sister to the winding bannister and gaudy chandelier hanging above the stairs. “I’ve decided to get a room at The Roseroad,” he said, hiking the strap of his bag up to his shoulder and turning around. 

* 

“We need dirt on Catelyn Stark,” Yara said before Brienne walked all the way into the room. 

“Good luck with that,” Renly chimed in. “The only other person I know more honorable than Catelyn Stark is Brienne.” 

Brienne let the door seal shut behind her. Even one day ago, Renly’s words would have made her swoon. All she felt was hollow. She left her bags leaning against the wall and joined the group at a makeshift conference table in the suite. “Do we know yet where this came from?” 

“Lannister,” Yara and Renly said in unison. 

“The Post broke the story,” Yara expanded. “Jaime Lannister's college roommate is the editor in chief. They were on the verge of folding. If The Post has a story to break, it’s only because someone handed it to them as a favor.” 

Renly stood and paced the perimeter of the room. “Screw Stark,” he said. “We need dirt on Tywin. We need to knock that old bat out of the race completely.” 

Brienne let him rant before gently reminding him, “We said we would never run a dirty campaign. We need to prepare statements from you and Margaery. Did she already know?” 

“She does now.” 

Brienne raked her fingers through her hair. Her eyes darted around the room, unable to land on Renly. 

“Hey,” he said, softly. “I’m... I’m sorry.” 

She walked to the corner of the room, gesturing for him to follow her. Lowering her voice, she asked, “How long have you known?” 

“That I like men?” 

Brienne groaned. _Of course. What else? _

Renly drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, stalling. “I think I always knew. But I didn’t admit it to myself or anyone until I met Loras. And by then it was already all over the news that I was marrying Marg. I was confused and scared.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have done everything I could to support you. It wouldn’t have changed my mind about you being the right person for the presidency.” 

He choked on a response. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Does it change your mind now?” 

Brienne hadn’t smoked in three years, but she heaved a sigh and stormed off to buy a pack of cigarettes. 

* 

Jaime changed into a pair of shorts and a polo shirt. He wandered the hotel’s grounds until he found the pool. The area was vacant. He removed his sandals, carrying them as he walked across the damp concrete to sit on a chaise lounge. He sniffed the air, bothered by the stench of cigarette smoke, and searched for the culprit. 

“You,” he said, spotting Brienne Tarth as she tried to slink away. 

She turned to face him. She dropped the cigarette on the ground and crushed it under the heel of her white sneakers. 

“I’m shocked to see you with that,” Jaime told her. “Your healthcare platform is adamant that-” 

“I’m not in the mood,” she interrupted him. “You’re right. Smoking is bad for you and, under normal circumstances, if a member of Renly’s campaign was photographed with a cigarette it would be bad. But I don’t think anyone would give a fuck about a picture of me smoking right now.” 

Jaime tossed his sandals on the chaise. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’ve seen the photos?” 

“Of course. That was the point, right? For everyone to see the photos?” 

He shrugged. “It’s politics, Tarth. Everyone plays the game. Some better than others.” He paused and turned to the pool. He dipped his foot into the water, swirling it, watching the ripples. “I’m sorry if you thought you were the one person in the history of Westeros to find a candidate without any skeletons in his closet,” Jaime said, and he could hear her the stomp of her feet approaching from behind. He quickly turned, moving away from the edge of the pool, and planted his feet firmly on the ground. 

“Listen, Jaime Lannister. I know... I don’t... Renly is...” Brienne faltered. She gave up, holding her long arms out at her sides, shaking her head. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought Lannisters had a house in every state. Are you making sure we’re panicking properly?” 

“I like to slum it now and then,” he told her. 

Brienne rolled her eyes. She covered her face with her hands. 

Jaime’s eyes wandered downward, taking note of how the hem of her shorts revealed muscular thighs and long, lean legs. He quickly looked away when she dropped her arms to her sides. 

“You could have told us this was coming,” she said, her voice quiet and sad. She stalked past Jaime and bent to remove her shoes and socks. “People do that. Give warning.” She eased herself onto the concrete and submerged her legs in the water. 

“Gods, you’re as green as grass.” Jaime took a seat beside her on the edge of the pool. 

Brienne denied his accusation. “I’m not naïve.” 

“Okay. But I don’t think you’ve been in this line of work long enough. You’re still wide-eyed. Innocent. Pure.” 

“I hate those words,” she spat. 

“It’s not bad. You want to see the good in people.” 

“I don’t see the good in you,” she retorted. 

Jaime laughed out loud. He kicked at the water, splashing her. 

“You are quite good at your job though, aren’t you?” Brienne asked, her voice tight with anger. “Good enough that you’d use your skills against your own boss. Against the man you once helped win the presidency.” 

She was referring to Aerys Targaryen. Jaime had worked tirelessly on the man’s campaign and became the youngest Chief of Staff when Targaryen won and surprised everyone by appointing him. Three years later, after Targaryen announced his run for re-election, various documents were released – medical and court records, police reports – that painted a portrait of a violent man with a hateful heart. His office maintained the documents were fake, but it was enough to tarnish his reputation. Shortly after he lost re-election, it came out that Jaime had leaked them himself, and most people continued to believe everything was false years later. 

“There is a lot you don’t know about that,” Jaime told her. 

“I know you swore to serve the country at his side. I know you tarnished a man’s image so your own family could-” 

Jaime kicked water, but it lacked the playfulness of the first time. “You know so much about it. It’s like you were there.” 

“All I’m saying is, you could do a lot of good in your position but you choose not to.” 

“Tell me if I have this right,” he interrupted her. “At a young age you started volunteering and telling your father he needed to be better about recycling. You ran for student council. You insisted on a vote even if you were running unopposed. You got into politics to make the world a better place. This is the first scandal you’ve been in the middle of because you never thought you’d support a candidate capable of doing something immoral.” 

After a long stretch of silence, Brienne said, “I understand you were doing your job today, but I find it to be a dishonorable job. And you could have made it slightly less horrible. You could have warned us about the pictures so Renly could talk to his wife. I know nothing was going to stop you from releasing them, but you could have gone about it a different way.” 

Jaime opened his mouth to speak, but Brienne didn’t stop talking. To his relief, though, her ire had changed direction. 

“I don’t understand how, in this day and age,” she went on, “he felt like he needed to lie about being gay. He would have the support of so many people. He would be applauded for his bravery. Instead he looks like a liar and a coward and...” She bit her lip, uncertain why she was still talking to Jaime. She was beginning to feel like the root of her anger was directed at herself – for not seeing the truth, for pining after Renly and wasting so many years. Brienne’s phone chimed and she dug it out of her pocket. “I have to go,” she said. 

Jaime climbed to his feet, dripping water where he stood. He offered his hand. 

She hesitated before reaching up and holding onto him. 

“Thank you,” Jaime said once she was out of the water. 

“For what?” 

“For not pulling me into the pool,” he said, smiling. 

Brienne tried to hide the smirk playing at her lips. “You deserve worse than that.” 

He shrugged. “Probably.” 

Brienne looked at him a long while before bending to pick up her shoes. She turned, wordlessly, and walked away. 

Jaime’s eyes studied her long, damp legs until she was gone, and then his eyes followed the path of drops she left on the concrete. He sat on the chaise lounge, reclining, and ruminated over what she’d said. She was right; he could have done his job with less cruelty. 

* 

The team was waiting for her upstairs, but Brienne didn’t want to walk across the lobby to the elevator with her legs dripping wet. She stood on a patch of carpet, letting the cool air dry the water. From where she stood, she could see one of the big televisions on the wall. It was tuned to WNN, and while the scroll at the bottom was about Renly, the footage playing out on the screen was of Catelyn Stark as she arrived in Bitterbridge that morning. 

Brienne folded her arms and listened to the female candidate greet the press, her supporters, and a few detractors. She was asked about the bombshell regarding Renly’s sexuality and Catelyn said, “I am not here to judge Mr. Baratheon. None of us knows the conversations he’s had with his family. I’ve never been in his shoes, but I imagine coming out is quite personal and harrowing.” 

The line of questioning led Catelyn to speak on same sex marriage and gender equality. Brienne found herself nodding along with what the woman said. Catelyn’s ideology and vision for the future filled Brienne with a sense of hope and excitement. And guilt. 

She made her way to the elevator and cursed Catelyn Stark for testing her loyalty. She wished she could escape for a few hours and remembered Lion asking her to send more travel fantasies. Brienne removed her phone from her pocket and tapped out a message while she rode to the fourteenth floor. 

* 

_To: Lion  
From: Sapphire _

_Travel fantasy? Right now, I want to be anywhere but where I am. I’ve been let down by someone I thought I could trust. I’m confused and angry. I would even go North to get away. To a cabin on Bear Island. _

Jaime was disappointed to find there wasn’t more to the message. He clutched his phone to his chest and closed his eyes. He imagined snow falling outside the windows of a cozy, one-room cottage. He could hear the crackle and hiss of the roaring fire and smell the woodsmoke that permeated the air and the flannel blanket he was wrapped in with her. Naked beneath the soft fabric. Flushed and sated.


	3. Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The candidates gather in King's Landing where a tragic turn of events pushes Brienne to take her relationship with Lion to the next step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pleased people are enjoying this story. It was such a random idea that I was going to be happy if only a couple besides me were interested in it. Thank you for the kudos and comments!
> 
> This chapter does contain a brief scene of gun violence.

_To: Sapphire   
From: Lion _

_No pressure, but I wonder... how would you feel about sharing pictures? I’m dying to see how accurate the image of you in my head is. But I can wait. It’s up to you. _

Brienne was thrown off balance by the question posed and felt behind her for a sturdy surface. She leaned against the edge of her desk. She pulled up the camera on her phone and snapped a quick selfie. The picture on the screen was of a woman with blotchy skin and chapped lips. Her hair was in desperate need of a trim. The picture was of a woman who had not slept for more than three hours every night for over a week. She refrained from answering the message, instead setting her phone face down on her desk. 

Her space was cluttered with manila envelopes and file folders and loose papers. Renly and the campaign had received countless pieces of mail since the pictures of him kissing Loras were published. Some of it was supportive, but most of it was negative. There were people who, like Brienne, were disappointed he hadn’t trusted his public with the truth. People who felt bad for Margaery. People who couldn’t believe in him anymore but wished him luck in his personal life. And there were people who hated him. Called him vile names and said they’d rather he be dead than their leader. 

She didn’t see those messages anymore – paper or electronic. The security detail had taken over monitoring everything. Brienne suspected the threats had increased when she saw two additional men posted at each entrance and exit. 

Her phone chimed and she leaned forward to read the screen. Another message from Lion. 

_To: Sapphire   
From: Lion _

_I’m sorry. I mean, I would still love to see you, but I was rude. I didn’t even ask if things have improved at work? With the friend who lied to you? I know what it’s like to have a high-stakes job, and how important it is to trust the people you work with. I’m sorry you’re in that situation. _

_What I want to say is, I would love to see you and I would love to be able to talk more candidly about our lives. But I never want to make you uncomfortable. _

_P.S. I finished reading the new Tarly novel. Have you? I can’t wait to talk about it. _

* 

The candidates and their staff had begun gathering in King’s Landing for the traditional The Seven’s Prayer Breakfast. Jaime decided that if he ever had the power to do so, he was abolishing the name. There were never any prayers, and the breakfast was predominantly Bloody Marys and mimosas. It was merely a chance for photo ops between hopefuls and the sitting president. A chance for the press to capitalize on discord and alliances. 

Jaime stood in the hotel lobby and began to see members of Stark’s staff filtering in with their luggage. He recognized a few people from Renly’s team as well. He wondered if Brienne Tarth had already arrived, though there was little doubt he could have missed her entrance. 

He removed his phone from his pocket and smiled at the alert he saw. He tapped the screen. 

_To: Lion   
From: Sapphire _

_You’re sweet. I’ll think about the photos. _

_My work situation... I would say it has improved somewhat. I’ve had many long conversations with my friend. Trust needs to be repaired, but I know he’s worthy of a second chance. This is going to be a crazy, busy week. I don’t want you to take my silence as reluctance to continue our correspondence or refusal to share more with you. It’s only work. _

_I haven’t finished the book but will soon. I got caught up in that docuseries you recommended on Westflix! _

_I hope you are well. In lieu of sharing pictures at this time, perhaps we can reveal one detail about our appearance? I’ve already said I’m tall. But I also have a lot of freckles. I won’t tell you where. Yet._

“Fuck,” Jaime whispered in a rasp of breath. His mouth was suddenly parched and he loathed the idea of turning around and answering his father, shouting to him from a few feet away. He wanted to live in the moment longer. 

“Jaime!” 

He gritted his teeth and turned around. “Yes, Senator Father,” he said, using the name he and Tyrion had come up with in their youth. 

Tywin had Jaime follow him to a closed door and into what he gathered was a lounge for the hotel’s employees. Cersei was already in the room. “We need to talk about Stark.” 

“What about her?” Jaime asked. 

“There is a strong chance her second born son is not her son at all,” Cersei said. 

Jaime blanched. “Dad, look-” 

“Get on it, Jaime,” Tywin advised sharply. 

Cersei stepped away from the corner of the room she’d been occupying, into the light. “Even if it turns out not to be true, Jaime, it won’t be hard to convince people it is. Jon barely looks like her or Ned. Plant the seeds. You know how this works.” 

The two of them left Jaime alone in the harshly lit room. He dragged a hand down his face and cursed again, only this time it was out of anger, not over the much more appealing thrill of tracing Sapphire’s freckles with his tongue. 

* 

Brienne heard the final boarding call for her flight. She dropped her phone into her purse and jogged to the gate. She was winded and her face was splotchy, but not from the effort to board the plane. Something had possessed her to be flirtatious in her most recent message to Lion, and she was frightened to have opened the door for him to start asking more lascivious questions – how many men have you slept with, what is your favorite position, are you kinky in bed? Questions she would not have any answers to. 

By the time she took her seat, Lion had already replied. Her pulse quickened as she read the note. 

_To: Sapphire   
From: Lion _

_I’m imagining the possibilities right now. _

_I’ll tell you this: I’m tall too. I’ve been dying to know your exact height. The idea of having to climb for a kiss is rather exciting and would be a new experience for me. _

_Glad you like the show. You have to tell me... do you believe he’s innocent?_

* 

“I’m not sure this is working,” Tywin said. 

Jaime looked up from his plate of food. The last thing his father had said was in regards to being unhappy with the volunteers. “Cold calling voters?” 

Tywin shook his head. “You working for me.” 

Jaime’s fork clanked against the edge of the plate. His father was about to launch into a break-up speech. “Oh?” he asked, not terribly upset by the possibility of being fired. 

“You seem distracted.” 

“I’m not,” Jaime insisted as he noticed Brienne Tarth walking into the hotel’s restaurant. He watched her over his father’s shoulder. She was wearing a black and white polka dot skirt that hit just below her knees. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her legs, but it was the first time he simultaneously saw her legs _and_ imagined his hand crawling up the length of them to discover the softness of the skin of her inner thighs. He almost felt guilty, like he was betraying Sapphire. His mind started to spiral, wondering if his mystery woman was as tall or taller than Brienne, and then he was imagining _two_ pairs of long legs... 

“Jaime!” 

The sound of his father’s voice pierced through Jaime’s fantasy. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

Tywin tossed his napkin down on the table. “You’re only proving my point, son. I need you at your best.” 

* 

The morning sun poured through the wide, oval windows of the ballroom. Voices overlapped and the air was permeated with the smell of maple syrup and sizzling bacon and expensive cologne. Each table’s centerpiece was a tight bundle of white roses and hydrangeas, eucalyptus, and a bold sprig of dried red foxtail. It would look to any casual observer like Brienne was admiring the arrangement, but she was lost in thought. 

Some part of her wanted to meet the man behind the increasingly heated, personal messages. The man she knew only as Lion. Some part of her – emboldened by his words and her reactions – was eager to take the relationship from virtual to real. They had both established their lines of work allowed them to travel almost anywhere to meet for an actual date, and Brienne was beginning to think that a man who seemed quite enamored by her via electronic communication would at least not be _unattracted_ to her in person. 

She snapped out of her reverie and excused herself from the table to go in search of a drink. 

Brienne was wearing a navy, long sleeved, belted shirtdress and caramel-colored pumps with three-inch heels. Adding on to her considerable height and wearing skirts and dresses was drawing more than the usual attention to her. Renly was convinced she had a secret lover and when he saw her that morning remarked, “Fucking has you feeling quite good about yourself.” 

“Mimosa, please,” she said to the young man behind the bar. Renly wasn’t entirely wrong. There was something about her desire for Lion and what he brought out in her that made Brienne feel more self-assured. More daring. She had purchased fancy underwear and bras – a lot of satin and lace trim. 

She turned around, her eyes perusing the crowd as she waited. She landed on Jaime Lannister. He was wearing a pale grey suit, no tie, only a crisp white shirt with the first several buttons undone. 

Brienne decided that the tickle in her belly and the urge to squeeze her thighs together had nothing to do with how handsome Jaime looked in a suit and with two days' worth of stubble darkening his face, and everything to do with her growing attraction to the idea of Lion. And the fact that she was wearing a bra with sheer cups and something skimpy that barely qualified as underwear. She had been thinking about sex more frequently in the last several days, and if most of the other men in the room weren’t old enough to be her father or didn’t proudly boast disgusting morals, she’d likely be turned on by them too. 

She thanked the bartender for her drink and turned around, nearly colliding with Catelyn Stark. “Excuse me,” Brienne apologized, and then, “Oh, hello. Good morning, Governor Stark.” 

“Good morning. Brienne, correct?” 

“Yes, Brienne Tarth.” She extended her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Governor.” 

“Please, call me Catelyn,” the other woman said. 

Brienne smiled. She would not call her by her first name, but the invitation to do so made her feel like part of an exclusive club. “I enjoyed what you had to say last month. About gender equality and gay rights and... Renly.” 

Catelyn looked slightly puzzled. 

“Prior to the debate,” she clarified. 

“Ah, yes. Well. Thank you. I’m sure that was a trying time for you and the staff, not to mention Renly. I’m happy to hear my words sat well with you. How is everyone faring?” 

Brienne was quiet for a moment, wondering if Catelyn had an angle and ulterior motives. Jaime Lannister had reminded her that not everyone desired to run a clean campaign. She decided to answer by simply saying, “Quite well, thank you.” She could see Jaime watching the conversation with interest, and when Brienne looked in the other direction, she saw Renly craning his neck to look at them as well. “Excuse me, Governor, I need to check in with my candidate.” 

* 

The candidates were gathered outside for a photo. Jaime stood far back, holding his phone, wondering what was keeping Sapphire from replying to his last message. He hoped he wasn’t getting too steamy or pressuring her too much. She seemed strong and sweet. Daring but firmly grounded in a deep sense of propriety. There was an innocence about her that made her more risqué messages even hotter. 

He caught sight of Brienne far away. She towered over her staff. Jaime wondered what she was so intently focused on when a loud noise rang shrill in his ears, followed by another pop and another. He’d instinctively dropped to the ground with everyone else, and all of the activity seemed to be centered at the stairs where the candidates had been lined up – shouting, screams, a tussle between at least two people. He slowly stood to his full height, surveying the scene. It was a relief to see his father standing, seemingly unharmed, but he couldn’t see much of anything else. 

Jaime made his way through the crowd, pausing to ask after the people around him until he was stopped by a member of the Secret Service from going any further. “That’s my father,” he said, pointing to Tywin, but was still held back. He struggled to try and see, and eventually people cleared to the side and Jaime could see everything. 

Renly was slumped across the stairs, a pool of blood darkening the concrete beneath him. The front of his white shirt was saturated with bright blood. Agents were piled on top of another man, his legs kicking at the ground. Another agent was holding a hand gun with a cloth, preserving the fingerprints of the shooter. Jaime watched as Brienne pushed through the crowd and ignored the protests of the agents to kneel beside Renly, her hands covering his wounds. 

* 

It felt wrong to be sitting on the middle of a comfortable bed in a lavish hotel room that perpetually smelled of lavender when Renly’s body was in the morgue. 

The idea of him being gone – dead – was still too new for Brienne to grasp everything that meant for her, for all of the candidates and campaigns, for the bystanders in the crowd, for all of the people targeted by vile hatred for what made them different from the norm. 

She was wearing a thin, cotton robe supplied by the hotel. The dress she had worn to the breakfast was balled up at the bottom of the trash can in the bathroom. She hadn’t been able to disrobe fast enough when she returned from the hospital, and after several hand washings and multiple scalding hot showers, Brienne could still see blood caked under her nails. 

The knock at the door made her flinch. She didn’t want to move, but it was probably law enforcement or agents coming to question her again. 

Brienne scooted off the bed and adjusted the sash around her waist, tightening the knot. When she looked through the small circle of glass on the door, all she saw was the back of a man wearing a suit. Without undoing the chain, she opened the door enough to show her face and ask, “Can I help you?” 

The man pivoted to face her. 

“What are you doing here?” she snapped. 

Jaime Lannister exhaled a shaky breath and told her, “I came to say- to check on you. And to say I’m sorry.” 

Her chest tightened. The only calls she had received were from members of the press looking for comments. No one from her staff had knocked on her door since they returned from the hospital. Brienne was stunned to realize it was comforting to see Jaime and hear his words. She released the chain and opened the door a few inches more. 

Jaime stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. The last time he had seen Brienne, as she got into the ambulance with Renly, there was a smear of blood across her cheek and her hands glistened red. He was pleased to see her looking clean and unharmed, her short hair slicked away from her face and still wet. “Are you okay?” he asked, immediately regretting his choice of wording. “I mean, of course you’re not but...” 

“I’ll be alright,” she told him. 

He was surprised by how much smaller she seemed in that moment. He didn’t know if it was the short robe or the complete lack of makeup on her pale face, but she looked younger and more... delicate. 

“The shooter is only nineteen years old,” Brienne confided. “He was behind a majority of the hate mail and a web site they were watching.” 

Jaime’s stomach turned. “Brienne, I’m so, so-” 

Anger flared in her eyes and she no longer looked small or delicate. “I don’t want to hear it, Lannister,” she shouted. “I’m exhausted and haven’t even begun to process what happened and I don’t know why I didn't slam the door in your face.” She did exactly that, securing the chain lock. 

Brienne went back to the bed, crawling onto the comfort of the mattress and heavy blankets. Her phone was beside her and she bypassed all of the missed calls and texts and news alerts to access the dating app. 

_To: Lion   
From: Sapphire _

_I wish you were here with me. I don't want to go into what has happened, but the only people around are people I detest. _

_I’ve decided something. I do want to meet you. It can’t be for a few days. I’ll be in Evenfall soon. Could you get there?_

* 

Jaime sulked back to his own room. He turned the television on and immediately muted the sound of the news. He stared at the mini fridge and considered emptying it of all the small liquor bottles, but he spared himself the drunken misery and hangover when he checked his messages. What he read made his heart soar and he quickly replied. The candidates had decided to stay in Storm’s End after the memorial and organize a vigil for Renly and to protest hate crimes. Evenfall was a quick ferry ride away. 

_To: Sapphire   
From: Lion _

_While I’m sorry to hear things aren’t going well, and I wish I could help, I can’t tell you how thrilled I am at the prospect of meeting you. Yes, I can be in Evenfall. Please let me know when and where. _

He refrained from mentioning his own sorry state of affairs and collapsed on the bed, sprawled across the center. He closed his eyes and intended to think about walking into a quaint coffee shop or seaside bistro to meet Sapphire, but Jaime found himself considering how to issue a true, heartfelt apology to Brienne and all of Renly’s campaign and supporters. More than that, how to make Brienne accept it. 

* 

The memorial service for Renly was brutal, perhaps more so than Brienne had predicted. It had ended hours ago but she was seated at the nearest bar and still wearing her sunglasses. She knew her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, and the glasses masked every new swarm of tears. She ordered her third gin and tonic, hoping it would dull the sharp ache in her chest. 

Brienne saw Jaime’s reflection in the mirror above the bar and silently chanted _please don’t see me_ over and over. She sighed when he began walking toward her. 

“Hi,” Jaime said, occupying the space between her and the next stool. 

She took a long drink from her glass. 

“Brienne, may I join you for a few minutes?” 

She put the glass to her lips and tilted her head back, draining the liquid. “If you buy me another one of these,” she said. 

“Two of whatever she’s having,” Jaime told the bartender as he took a seat beside her. He was quiet until the drinks were set in front of them. “Do you need something to eat?” 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “No.” 

He traced the rim of the glass with the pad of his index finger. “I want you to know I am truly sorry for what I did with the photos, and I plan to issue a public apology.” 

She held her breath for a moment. “Your father will never allow that.” 

“My father doesn’t get a say. This is my mistake to apologize for.” He heard a sharp intake of breath from Brienne and prepared himself for her rage. 

“_Mistake_?” she repeated, turning on her stool to look at him. She removed her sunglasses and knew by his reaction that her eyes were as worn and red as she imagined, her cheeks chapped from tears. “A mistake is putting soy milk in my latte. A mistake is misspelling someone’s name. You set out to start rumors about Renly and hired someone to-” 

“They weren’t rumors,” Jaime interrupted her. 

Brienne stood, almost knocking the stool over with the force of her movements. “This is some apology, Lannister,” she spat, turning to walk away. 

He slammed money on the bar top and chased after her, catching up to her outside on the sidewalk. “All I meant is... the information I had was the truth.” 

“That may be,” Brienne said, “but you’re not exactly known for your honesty. Everyone believes you fabricated the documents that cost Aerys Targaryen re-election. How do I know you weren’t just lucky that Renly ended up being gay? If you had never paid someone to follow him around with a long lens camera, he’d still be alive. Maybe he’d be lying to me and everyone else, but he’d be alive.” She was sobbing again. “He’d be alive,” she repeated, her face crumpling. 

A tear slid from the corner of Jaime’s eye, streaking a crooked line down his cheek. He wanted to tell her the truth about Aerys and the truth about Renly – that the man’s own brother, and Jaime’s own family, had employed him to leak the information and get the photographic evidence. He wanted to expose them, even if it marked him yet again as a man who could not be trusted. A man who would betray even his own family. “You have no idea how sorry I am,” Jaime told her. “I know it doesn’t change anything or mean much to you, but I’ll always regret the part I played in his death. That’s not the kind of man I want to be, Brienne.” 

She closed her eyes. She was dizzy and dehydrated, and Brienne didn’t know if she was going to fall or faint, but suddenly Jaime’s arms caught her around the waist and the front of his body broke any impact between her and the ground. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. 

A car honked its horn and the jolt of sound was like an alarm for Brienne. She lifted her head from his shoulder and shoved away from him, breaking the circle of his arms around her. “I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need your help,” she sneered and turned, walking away. 

* 

The most recent message from Sapphire said she would be in Evenfall by the weekend, and she would be at Seaworth’s café at noon that Sunday. Jaime had plenty of time to get there, but he didn’t want to wait another second. 

He left his keycard on the desk and took the elevator to the hotel lobby. Before he exited through the doors, he glanced back, looking for Brienne. He was, of course, sorry for what happened to Renly. But at that moment Jaime realized something else. He was sorry he would no longer be seeing Brienne Tarth on the campaign trail.


	4. Formidable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne prepares to meet Lion and Jaime makes a discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I know about fencing I learned from Wikipedia.

The air in Evenfall was clean and salty like the sea that surrounded it. Brienne felt incrementally better the moment she stepped off the plane, and slightly better than that when she arrived at her childhood home. 

Her father was away when a car dropped her at the house, but he left a pan of her favorite brownies on the kitchen table with a note informing her a fresh jug of milk was in the fridge. Brienne cut a bite-sized square of the dessert. The creamy, salted chocolate melted on her tongue and she fetched a plate from the cabinet. She sliced a much larger piece and sat down to eat it. 

When she’d licked the crumbs and ate another small sliver, Brienne poured a glass of cold milk. She carried it with her up the stairs to her bedroom. The space had changed since she lived full time in the house, but her father never dared to convert the room into anything else. 

She set her bag down and opened the window to refresh the stale air. Brienne sipped her milk and savored the view she had of the jagged cliffs and the blue sea. She had almost a full twenty-four hours before she was scheduled to meet Lion, and the serenity of being home had her second guessing the decision. Life had been rather rocky lately, and she wondered if it was a terrible idea to disrupt her life even further? Brienne thought it might not be the right time to put herself through the stress of revealing her identity and risking the loss of the friendship and flirtation she enjoyed so much. 

Knowing Lion was probably already on his way to Evenfall, if not there already, she couldn’t stand the idea of causing such an inconvenience. Brienne decided to use the time she had left to arrange an outfit and work up the courage. 

Opening her suitcase, she rummaged through the scant amount of clothing she’d packed. She checked the closet and drawers in her room, and altogether was able to assemble an outfit she would be comfortable in that also seemed classic and elegant – a pair of jeans that still had the tags, a black and white striped pullover, and red sandals Renly had once convinced her to buy. 

* 

Jaime found Seaworth’s without incident. He had received a message from Sapphire with a description of the clothes she would be wearing and the detail that she would place a single, long-stemmed rose on the table. He stopped at a flower shop on the way and bought a boquet of what the florist called ocean breeze orchids – a shade of blue that reminded him of sapphires - that she could take home with the rose. 

The inside of the café smelled warm and sweet, and Jaime carried the flowers behind his back as he glanced around the small space. He realized there was more seating on a covered deck and made his way to the back. It was then, looking through the window, that Jaime saw Brienne Tarth. She was indeed wearing a black and white striped shirt – one detail that had not been mentioned was that the neckline was wide, revealing a generous amount of skin and collarbone and enough shoulder that he doubted she was wearing a bra underneath – and had created a centerpiece out of a tall glass and a single long-stemmed, red rose. 

Jaime quickly shuffled backward and leaned against the wall, out of sight. Sapphire was Brienne. Brienne was Sapphire. His immediate reaction was anger, then pleasant surprise, and finally he wondered how he hadn’t already figured it out. Tall and well-spoken and somewhat shy. Eyes as blue as the sapphire sea surrounding Evenfall. A high-pressured job. Recent hard times. So, so sweet. 

“Damn,” he said out loud, realizing that his odd attraction to Brienne did not have to conflict with his growing feelings for Sapphire. “Oh, fuck,” Jaime said, also coming to understand that if he was falling in love with Sapphire he was falling in love with _Brienne Tarth_. A woman who loathed him. 

He knew if he went onto the deck and revealed himself as Lion, she would storm away. She would be devastated. Probably more so than if Lion cancelled at the last minute or never showed up at all. Jaime was afraid that revealing the truth would cost him both Brienne and Sapphire, and he thought with a little more time he could figure something out to prevent that from happening. 

He buried the flowers at the bottom of a trash bin in the men’s restroom. He ordered a flat white and grabbed a newspaper. Jaime walked casually to the deck where Brienne was seated and claimed an empty table, tossing the paper down loud enough that she would probably look up and see him. He avoided looking at her as he set his phone on the table and took several sips of his drink. Finally, he leaned back in the chair to take a deep breath of the salted air and their eyes locked. He feigned surprise and got up, carrying his drink and phone with him. 

“What are you doing here?” Jaime asked. 

“I’m from here,” Brienne told him flatly. 

He nodded. “I think I knew that.” 

“What are _you_ doing here?” 

“I don’t need to be anywhere for a couple days. Thought I’d take a little day trip.” He yanked the empty chair away from the table and sat down. 

“Stop! You can’t sit there,” Brienne told him with an urgency to her tone. 

“Oh, sorry. Waiting for a friend?” 

She shrugged. 

“You don’t know?” 

“It’s complicated.” 

“Ah, I see.” He leaned against the wooden railing that surrounded the patio. “How have you been feeling?” 

Brienne groaned. “I was feeling much better until I saw your face,” she told him, immediately regretting the whiny nature of her tone. 

“Well then... I’ll go back over there,” Jaime told her, scooting away from the table. He sat back down where he had been before, pretending to read the newspaper. He watched Brienne check her phone several times and tap her foot impatiently on the ground. It killed him to see the way she constantly sent the disbelieving waitress away, maintaining that she was in fact waiting for someone. 

* 

The breeze was cool but Brienne felt overheated. A sense of dread had settled over her. She felt sweat along her hairline and her pulse thrummed and she could hear as well as feel the unsteady rhythm of her heartbeat. It was particularly humiliating being stood up while Jaime Lannister watched from a few tables away. 

Her phone vibrated on the table and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her hand trembled as she reached for it, slowly peeling her eyes open to read the alert. Her heart sank but she opened the message. 

_To: Sapphire  
From: Lion _

_I hope you can forgive me. My flight was delayed and I’ve been stranded without a signal and there is no Wi-fi. It’s not such a relief to be without it when you are desperate to send a message to someone special. Please know that I wanted nothing more than to sit across a table from you, and if you can forgive me, I will make it happen soon. _

_I’m beyond sorry. _

She clutched the phone to her chest and suddenly couldn’t wait to get out of Evenfall. The legs of her chair scraped on the wooden floor as she moved her seat back and stood. She had to pass by Jaime’s table but held her head high and pointed her gaze straight ahead. She cringed when he stood and blocked her path. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand cupping her elbow. 

“Will you please stop asking me that?” she asked. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

Brienne wrenched away from his touch. “No,” she stated, marching away from him. 

* 

Jaime had taken the ferry back to Storm’s End not long after Brienne left the café. He sat in his hotel room staring at his phone and was disappointed every time he received an alert that was not informing him of a new message from Sapphire. He considered texting Brienne to start a conversation, but decided against it. Her anger toward him was too fresh and everything was still too new for him. 

He drifted to sleep, still fully dressed. Hours later, he woke with dry mouth and rumpled clothes to a room dimly lit by a waning sun. His pants were tented, the lingering effect of a series of tawdry dreams. The one Jaime remembered involved Brienne, the two of them alone in the café. His hand slid beneath the hem of her shirt until his fingers closed around the soft slope of her small breast. Her jeans were already on the floor, and she leaned back on a table, spreading her legs to him. He hiked the shirt up to her neck, his lips latching to her nipple, his tongue lashing at the taut, pink skin. She was warm and wet and tight around his cock and came undone beneath him with his name a breathy whisper on her tongue. 

* 

The headquarters of Baratheon for President were desolate. Staffers had cleared out their desks but had not taken the pictures and posters off the walls. Brienne returned sooner than she’d planned and found several half-filled coffee mugs to dump and wash in the kitchen. A trash bin was knocked over. Someone left the crust of a sandwich on a napkin. Her office was the only part of the floor that didn’t look like a hastily abandoned, post-apocalyptic town. 

It had not been her intention to clean the entire space, but she welcomed the distraction and shook open a trash bag. There were a lot of things she didn’t need to keep, but anything she did went in a banker’s box. She opened a desk drawer and saw the round pin-back button she’d kept from Renly’s first campaign. Brienne picked it up, squeezing her fingers around it. She gasped and dropped it when she heard someone say, “Ms. Tarth?” 

Looking up, she vaguely recognized the man in her doorway. “What the-?” 

“Theon Greyjoy,” he said. “Sorry, the front door was unlocked. I knocked but you obviously didn’t hear it.” 

“No,” she agreed with a sigh. 

He took two strides into the space and bent to pick up the button. He ran his thumb across the text before handing it back to her. “I didn’t get to speak with you at the memorial. I’m very sorry for what happened. I hope you know that Governor Stark intends to focus on hate crime legislation her first one-hundred days in office.” 

“Is that what you came to tell me?” 

Theon smiled. “No.” He rubbed his hands together. “If you don’t know, I’m Governor Stark’s field director. I think she sent me because I tend to be quite persuasive with the female volunteers and voters.” 

“And you’re supposed to... persuade me?” 

“Yes, somewhat.” 

“To vote for her? Isn’t it a little unseemly to be asking who I’m going to vote for now that Ren-” 

“To come work with us.” 

Brienne’s eyes widened. 

“The Governor is not happy with her campaign manager. She understands this is a sensitive time but thought she would be remiss not to make the offer. She was- _is_ impressed with you. We all are.” Theon flashed a smile that Brienne supposed persuaded a lot of women to work for them or vote for them, and probably do other things. 

“I am flattered, but I don’t think I’m ready to start working again. Let alone for one of Renly’s competitors.” 

“Of course. Governor Stark anticipated you needing more time. She’s fine with that as long as she knows she can count on you for the last leg of the campaign.” 

Brienne moved backward until she could sit on the edge of the credenza. She folded her arms. “I need to think about it.” 

“Yes, of course.” Theon reached into his pocket and removed a folded piece of paper. “This has my direct number as well as one to the Governor’s assistant. Use them any time.” 

She took the paper from him and slid it into the side pocket of her jeans. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Brienne. I hope to hear from you soon.” He turned around. 

In a flash she thought about Renly and Catelyn and not working and Lion and being alone. She called out, “Theon!” 

He was mere feet away from her and flinched at the volume of her voice. He turned around, grinning. “Yes?” 

“Okay. I accept.” 

* 

Jaime stood on the sidewalk, staring at what used to be Renly’s headquarters. Brienne was ignoring Lion’s many attempts to apologize and make things up to her. He decided he needed a new approach, but as he stepped one foot onto the street to cross, he saw Brienne walk out of the building with a man. 

“Greyjoy,” he sneered, and watched as the two of them shook hands. At least the interaction didn’t seem to be personal, although the idea of it being professional was just as concerning to Jaime. He waited for Theon to be out of sight and walked briskly across the street. 

He smiled when Brienne took notice of him, but she did not look amused. “Did you come here to ask if I’m okay or offer me a job?” 

“A job?” Jaime asked. 

“I’m going to join Catelyn Stark’s campaign.” 

“Oh,” he said. “Wow. That’s... an unexpected turn of events.” Jaime realized he was quite pleased at the prospect of encountering her more often, but figured he should appear angry or worried. 

Brienne crossed her arms. “Well? What _are_ you doing here? Did you want to needle me about being stood up? Try to-” 

“Of course not. I had a meeting down the street. I heard there was a nice memorial out front for Renly.” 

She glanced to where people had taped hand-written notes to the building’s exterior and left candles, stuffed animals, and other trinkets. “Well, I need to get back to cleaning,” she said, opening the door. 

“Need any help?” he asked, stopping Brienne in her tracks. 

She hated the idea of humoring Jaime’s need for penance. But she thought about the mess inside and looked at him over her shoulder. “Are you any good at getting pizza sauce out of carpet?” 

* 

The two of them worked in amiable silence, filling trash bags and wiping glass and scrubbing every surface. The harsh, chemical smell of lemon cleanser made Brienne sneeze and Jaime’s eyes water. She worked up a sweat and had to remove the red sweatshirt she wore. 

Jaime watched as she peeled it up the length of her torso. The white T-shirt she wore underneath slid up, revealing a patch of the taut, pale skin of her stomach. When she discarded the heavier garment, he was reminded of his dream; he could faintly see the outline of her dusky pink nipples through the thin cloth. 

“I said can you toss me that towel?” Brienne told him, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead, slick with sweat. 

He swallowed hard and did as she said. 

She began to go over the tops of the desks again and took a step back to observe the work. There was a knock at the door and she looked at Jaime, who confessed he had ordered cold drinks and a pizza. 

“We just cleaned up the remains of a pizza,” she pointed out dryly. 

The two of them sat on the floor, the open box between them, with the door propped open to air out the office. The cold drinks were two bottles of water and two bottles of beer, and Brienne took a long pull from her beer before she begrudgingly said, “Thank you for the help.” 

Jaime smiled. “Thank you for allowing me to.” He decided he was glad Stark had employed her; she would be a formidable opponent, and they could once again encounter each other on the road. It gave him more opportunities to execute his plan, but also made him feel infinitely more conflicted about digging up dirt on Stark. Or fabricating it per his family’s request. “Have you heard from your friend? The one who didn’t show up at the café?” 

Brienne sighed. Her teeth scraped across her bottom lip. 

“Was this friend your boyfriend?” 

“What makes you think that?” 

Jaime shrugged. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I thought maybe...” 

“What?” 

“I was supposed to meet this guy I’ve been talking to. Online.” She paused, her cheeks turning pink. “I wouldn’t normally use online dating, but Renly signed me up, and it’s pathetic, I know, but-” 

“Not pathetic at all,” he told her. “I’ve tried it before.” 

She let that sink in. “Well, anyway. Obviously, it didn’t work out.” 

“I’m sure he regrets not being there. If he doesn’t, he’s the dumbest man in the world.” 

She blushed. 

“Don’t give up just bec-” 

“Thanks, but... I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” 

“Alright.” Jaime picked up his grease-soaked paper plate. He added another slice. “I’ll say this about Catelyn Stark. I like her tax plan.” 

Brienne nearly choked and spit out her beer. “What? You? Like _her_ tax plan?” 

He nodded, amused by her reaction. 

“I would have thought you would be all for taxing the hell out of the poor.” 

“No,” Jaime said, sincere. He went on to elaborate and mentioned another policy of Catelyn’s that he could get behind with a tweak here and there. 

By the time they were both full and the beer was gone, Brienne had begun to see Jaime in a different light. “Can we go back to the dating thing again?” she asked. “I am finding it really hard to believe that you, Jaime Lannister, need an app to meet women.” 

He laughed. “It’s true. I’m somewhat of a loner, I guess? Maybe not by choice. When I meet a woman, once she realizes who I am and what I’m known for, she usually runs the other way. If she sticks around, it usually means she’s money hungry or even more morally reprehensible than I am.” 

“You should try the dating app I was using,” she told him. “You might have better luck.” 

Jaime grinned. “Hmm. I’ll have to look into it.” 

* 

Brienne entered her apartment and set the box of her things by the door. She walked to her bedroom and flipped the switch on the wall. Her intention was to change clothes and then open her laptop to respond to a backlog of emails, but instead she threw herself, facedown, across the mattress. She fell asleep still wearing her shoes and holding her keys, and when a dream woke her several hours later, Brienne had no concept of the time of day. 

The room was illuminated but it was pitch black outside. That combined with waking fully clothed left her in a sort of twilight. She got her hands on her phone and even though it was the middle of the night, Brienne stumbled to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. 

She finally removed her shoes and took off her clothes, leaving a trail toward the bathroom. She stood in the sink in only her underwear and bent to splash cool water on her face. An image from her dream flashed behind her closed eyes and she stood abruptly, staring at her reflection in the mirror – mouth agape, beads of water sliding down her face to drip onto her bare chest. 

“Oh, gods,” Brienne cursed as more and more of the dream unspooled in her waking mind. At first, she only knew the dream had been sexual in nature; she could recall the sensation of being kissed. But there had been hands groping at her body and the warm weight of a man on top of her and what had taken her by surprise was the realization the man was Jaime Lannister. 

Plucking a towel from the rack, Brienne dried her face and dabbed at her chest. She found a clean, oversized shirt and pulled the soft cotton over her head as she followed the smell of the coffee. The kitchen tiles were cold on her bare feet. She poured a cup and sat down, cross-legged, on one of the two chairs at the table. 

The dream meant nothing, she told herself. Jaime happened to be the last man she interacted with. If she had stopped at the grocery store on her way home, she probably would have dreamt about Gary, the middle-aged clerk who always had something stuck in his teeth. But as Brienne opened her laptop and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, her mind kept returning not to the dream but to Jaime. 

Jaime sitting on the floor. Jaime rubbing a cloth in circles on the glass wall of her office while she did the same on the other side. Jaime eating pizza. Jaime laughing. Jaime’s fingers brushing hers when he handed her the broom. 

“Stop!” Brienne scolded her thoughts. _He’s terrible. Horrible. I hate him. _

* 

The storefront window was frosted glass with the words _Bronn’s Gym_ painted in black across the middle. The paint was chipping and faded, making the name barely legible, but Jaime knew he had the right place when he opened the door and saw what looked like a Medieval armory. 

“Gym's closed,” a voice hollered from another room. 

“Door is opened,” Jaime responded. 

There was a clatter and a curse and then a man appeared, holding a rag and a rather hefty épée. “Gym is appointment only,” the man explained as the door behind them opened. 

Jaime turned around and was genuinely surprised to see Brienne, which was helpful since only Lion should know her history of fencing and Medieval camps. “Hey. What are you doing here?” he asked. 

She wore a sour expression. “Bronn, what the-” 

“He just walked in,” Bronn said, shrugging. He disappeared briefly and returned empty-handed. “I have to go, Tarth. Place is yours. Want me to take the pretty boy with me?” 

Brienne considered the question a moment before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. I know him, unfortunately.” 

Bronn wagged his eyebrows and opened the door. “Lock up if I'm not back. I’ll be sure to knock before I enter,” he said, pulling the door shut. 

Jaime could tell this was par for the course – Brienne having free reign of the gym. “You practice fencing alone?” he asked. 

She blew out an exasperated huff of air and set her bag on a nearby chair. “Not usually, no. Bronn had a conflict so I was just going to use the weights,” she told him, gesturing to the equipment on one side of the room. 

“I could spar with you,” he said. 

“What are you doing here anyway? Following me? First, you’re at the headquarters and now my gym? Do you even know what fencing is?” 

Jaime held his hands up in a declaration of innocence. “I admit, I went to the office last night hoping you’d be there so I could apologize again. But I swear this is a coincidence. And of course, I know what fencing is. It’s how I found this place.” 

Brienne sighed. 

“Now, come on. Spar with me. Haven’t you always fantasized about being able to drive something with a sharp, pointy end into my cold, cold heart?” 

He earned a laugh from her and she said, “That does sound rather appealing.” 

The two of them set about putting the protective gear on over their clothes and selecting a weapon from the wall. Dressed and armed, they stood across from one another in the middle of the floor. Brienne flipped her mask down first, and Jaime followed, her voice muffled when she said, “En garde!” 

Jaime assumed the proper stance and said, “Êtes-vous prêts,” wishing he could see the detail of her face at his use of the phrase. As Lion, he had downplayed his knowledge of the sport of fencing and was glad for it. He looked forward to surprising and impressing Brienne as himself, keeping the other persona far from her mind. 

“Allez!” she answered, lunging forward as Jaime successfully parried the attack. 

They circled one another, striking and blocking and grunting and scoring an equal number of points until Brienne put a halt to the action to dispute a hit. They both lifted the visor of their masks, their faces red and shining with sweat. They argued and she conceded, “You’re better than I expected,” flipped her visor down and added, “But I’m still going to win.” 

She proved to be right, and Jaime graciously shook her hand when the match ended. He removed his mask completely and watched as she did the same, her hair wild and, he thought, adorably unruly. 

“How did I not know this about you?” she asked, placing her weapon back on the wall. 

“You never asked?” He began to strip out of the gear. “If I hadn’t gone into politics, I would probably be drowning in gold medals for this,” he revealed. 

Brienne appeared to downplay her reaction with a quick, unimpressed shrug. She was down to the last piece of gear, the plastron, when a piece of the Velcro attached to her shirt underneath. “Seven hells,” she cursed, wrestling with the material. 

Jaime said, “Let me,” and began to yank on the fabric. 

“I can do it,” she countered. He was standing close, and unbeknownst to Jaime, Brienne was flashing back to the dream she’d had about him. She was staring at his mouth when he suddenly parted the materials and inadvertently ripped the plastron open around her torso. 

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the sight of her form-fitting top and realized he was still gripping both sides of the plastron. 

“What are you doing?” she asked softly. 

The tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I want to kiss you, Brienne.” 

She held her breath, reminding herself that she hated him even as she nodded her consent. 

Jaime tugged on the garment, bringing her chest flush against his. He touched his lips to hers once, quickly, and tilted his head back to judge her reaction. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted, breathy and waiting, and his lips dove for hers once again. The kiss was heated and a bit clumsy, like most of their arguments. They came apart, breathing hard, only to immediately lunge at one another again. 

After a moment more, Brienne slipped a hand between their bodies and gave him a light shove. 

He stared at her, panting to catch his breath, and said, “That was-” 

“Terrible,” she said. 

Jaime grunted in disagreement, wounded by her reaction. 

She looked at him, shook her head, and went on, “I mean, _that_, as far as kisses go, was perfectly okay. But we can’t. Do that.” She let out an awkward laugh. “I mean, I don’t want to do that. With you. Okay?” 

“Understood.” He surveyed the room, picking up a few discarded pieces of gear to put them in their rightful spot. “See you in a few weeks at the debate?” 

“I suppose.” 

Jaime started for the door. “Hey, Brienne?” 

She turned to look at him. 

“Let’s do that again some time. The sparring, I mean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Jaime doesn't come across as too unlikable for how he reacts to seeing Brienne at the cafe and how he carries on after. As much as I've always loved You've Got Mail, I do recall thinking Joe Fox was actually kind of a jerk. I'm trying to make Jaime's intentions good and not creepy, and hopefully that comes across.


	5. Debates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the candidates gather for a debate, Brienne has a debate with herself over her feelings for Jaime and "Lion."

He knew it was a risk – pretending to Brienne that he and Lion were not one and the same – but Jaime continued his plan. All of the candidates were back in Bitterbridge for another debate and his intel told him she always used the hotel gym at six o’clock in the morning. 

Jaime set an alarm and downed an energy drink. He walked into the gym at six sharp, but Brienne was already running on a treadmill. He gulped at the sight of her in tight black leggings with a pattern of suns and moons crawling from the ankles up toward her thighs. She did a double take at the sight of him. 

He climbed on the treadmill beside her. “Good morning,” he greeted her, casual. As if they had not recently shared a passionate kiss. He began to run and paused after a few minutes to remove his shirt. He caught Brienne looking at him, and while she would no doubt explain away the pink in her cheeks as the exertion of her workout, he knew better. 

On the other treadmill, she nearly lost her footing at the revelation of Jaime’s sun-kissed skin and muscled arms and toned stomach. The broad planes of his chest were dusted in fine, golden hair. Brienne had to reach for her water and take several large drinks from the bottle. She still could not fathom that he needed a dating app to meet women and had made her scandalous dream a partial reality when he kissed her, and that she had enjoyed it. Brienne hadn’t been able to stop replaying their kiss and imagining what it could have turned into if she hadn’t put a stop to it. 

She truly didn’t want to be involved with a man like Jaime when she could possibly have a man like Lion, but it was a boost to her self-esteem that Jaime had kissed her. There was nothing wrong, she decided, with using it to bolster her confidence to reconnect with Lion. 

It crossed her mind that she wished Jaime was more like her mystery man. If she could combine Lion’s interests and morality and sweetness with Jaime’s good looks, she would have the perfect man. 

* 

“You clean up well,” Jaime said as he walked toward Brienne in the lobby of the building where the debate was being held. She was wearing simple black slacks with a white blouse tucked under the waistband. A closer look revealed the shirt was anything but simple; it seemed to wrap around her torso in a complicated layering of fabric that was especially tight across her chest. He was going to have to figure out how to make it through the long evening without constantly imagining unraveling the garment, much as he’d ripped the plastron apart following their sparring session. 

Brienne replied with a polite nod. She did not return the compliment, but unbeknownst to Jaime, she was flashing back to his naked chest and arms covered in a sheen of sweat from his workout. Theon called to her from the other end of the lobby and she told Jaime, “Good luck.” 

“Yes, you too,” he replied and watched her walk away. He continued watching her as she stood next to Theon, the two of them looking at something the young man was holding in his left hand while his right settled between Brienne’s shoulder blades. 

Jaime took several steps forward, grabbing a flyer from a table. He pretended to read it while he observed Brienne and Theon, the man’s hand dropping lower on her back. It was indecent, really, Jaime thought. A clear invasion of her personal space. 

* 

The debate ended with raucous applause, and Brienne was certain most of it was directed at Catelyn. 

“Way to go, Tarth,” Theon said, clapping her on the back. 

Brienne was feeling celebratory and triumphant and found herself throwing her arms around his shoulders. Almost as quickly as she’d embraced him, she let go. “I’m so sorry.” 

Theon smiled, shrugged. “Don’t be. I did not mind one bit.” 

She felt herself blushing and turned around, coming face to face with Jaime. “Oh. Hi.” 

“Hello. You must be in a good mood,” Jaime said. 

She grinned. “I suppose.” 

“After every debate, there is always one campaign that goes off and gets drunk in joyful abandon. There’s another campaign that goes off and gets drunk in abject misery. I can safely say you fall into the first.” 

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure that’s true, but I’m not planning to get drunk. I guess you are though?” 

Jaime shook his head. “I have something else in mind. Care to join me?” 

She stammered over a response and was grateful when Theon interrupted. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at a gaggle of young staffers waiting by the door. “You coming, Tarth?” he asked. 

Jaime said, “Enjoy your evening,” and turned on his heels. 

* 

The Eastwatch Diner was almost empty when Jaime walked through the door. He sat in a corner booth by the window and plucked a menu from the end of the table. He ordered coffee and told the waitress he was only going to eat a slice of pie. When she rolled her eyes, he assured the woman he would tip as though he’d ordered one of everything. 

He watched an elderly man get up from his seat and exit, leaving an unfinished crossword puzzle on the table. Jaime got up to grab it and asked for a pen when the waitress returned with his coffee. He was trying to recall the name of the fifth and final Blackfyre Rebellion when he heard the bells above the door chime. He looked up to see Brienne, alone, surveying the empty seats. Their eyes locked and she walked toward him. 

“When you said you had something else in mind, this isn’t what I imagined,” Brienne told him. 

“What did you imagine?” he asked, and the way she blushed was answer enough for Jaime. Clearly, she thought he’d take a woman or two back to his room or spend the night in a strip club – something more salacious than pie and a crossword puzzle. “I like to drown my sorrows in sugar,” he told her. “What happened to celebrating with your team?” 

Brienne shrugged. “I’m starving and they went to a bar that doesn’t serve food.” She set her eyes on a table on the opposite side of the room. 

“Join me? Keep me from eating _all_ the pie?” Jaime asked. 

Brienne considered the offer, drumming her fingers on the table. “Alright,” she agreed and sat down across from him. 

The waitress appeared and asked, “What can I get you?” 

“Coffee,” Brienne said. 

“That it?” the older woman asked, annoyed. 

“You know,” Jaime said, “I think I changed my mind about having only pie. I’m rather famished.” He briefly looked at the menu. “I’ll have a cheeseburger with fries, a vanilla shake, onion rings, and eventually a big slice of apple pie ala mode.” He looked at Brienne. “What do you want?” 

She laughed and said, “If I order a strawberry shake can I eat some of your food?” 

Jaime nodded. “But you have to get your own pie.” 

“Banana cream,” she told the waitress. “No, wait. Peanut butter and chocolate.” She looked at Jaime. “No wonder you have to find a gym in every town you visit.” 

He shrugged. “I have the appetite of a-” Jaime stopped himself when he almost said _lion_. He cleared his throat. “Of a bear, I guess. If a bear has a big appetite?” 

“I think the blue whale has the largest of appetite of any mammal.” 

Jaime grinned and said, “You’re probably good at these,” he said, tapping his pen on the puzzle in front of him. “I need fourteen letters, two words, for the fifth battle of the Blackfyre Rebellion.” 

He barely finished speaking when Brienne answered, “Ninepenny Kings. The War of the Ninepenny Kings.” 

Several minutes later, the Formica tabletop was littered with platters and plates and napkins and tall, heavy glasses with ice cream dripping down the sides. Jaime thought he very well could be drunk, somehow, for all the laughter coming from their corner of the diner. He forgot for a while that he couldn’t let any of the Lion in him show, and wondered if Brienne thought it odd when he mentioned a Red Keep album and the true crime docuseries Lion had recommended to her. 

She snatched a fry from his plate and paused with the food mere inches from her mouth, staring at him. 

“What?” he asked. He tensed, worried he’d revealed too much. 

“I was just thinking how you’re much easier to tolerate with a tableful of greasy diner food,” she said. 

He chucked a fry at her but she caught it midair and laughed as she triumphantly popped it into her mouth. Jaime loved that Brienne had a loud, boisterous laugh and how almost every human emotion made her cheeks brighten to varying shades of red. The stories she told of growing up on an island amused Jaime and made him sorry for his childhood self that things hadn’t been happier. He was touched by the love she had for her father and delighted by her vast knowledge of the Medieval era. It made sense that she loved that period of time; Brienne was reminiscent of a Knight and a Lady – honorable, helpful, noble. Strong and dignified. Beautiful in her own, unique way. 

“Can I walk you back to the hotel?” Jaime asked when their plates were empty and their bellies full. 

“You might have to roll me,” she said, leaning back against the cushioned seat, hand against her stomach. 

Jaime smiled and scooted out of the booth. He offered his hand and pulled her to her feet. At her full height, their faces were mere inches from one another. “I’ve been wondering,” he said. “Why can’t we kiss again if the first one was so ‘perfectly okay’, as you said?” 

“I said no kissing,” she reminded him. 

“You didn’t say we couldn’t _talk_ about kissing.” 

Brienne scoffed and brushed past him. The way he said _kissing_, his voice dropping an octave and husky with need, made her knees weak. 

They walked side by side down the street, occasionally colliding hip to hip, arms brushing. The conversation inevitably turned to politics, and Jaime pointed out a fact about poverty in Fleabottom that Catelyn got wrong and Brienne critiqued Tywin’s plan to avoid a recession. They talked over one another, louder and louder even as they crossed through the hotel lobby to the elevator. 

Jaime walked Brienne to her door. She was insisting Tywin’s plan was going to cost such an outrageous amount of money to implement that it negated all the good he thought he was doing. She paused to allow Jaime to respond while she retrieved her key card. He said, “I don’t really care. Can I please kiss you again?” 

She wedged her foot between the door and its frame and slowly twisted her hips to look at him. 

He closed the distance between them. 

She hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol but felt tipsy; the floor beneath her feet seemed to move, and her judgment was clearly impaired. In a matter of seconds her mind was filled with conflicting thoughts – she hated his politics and his morals, he had soft lips and strong hands. Brienne clutched fistfuls of his shirt and pulled Jaime into the room with her, letting the door shut. 

He moaned and slid his hands from her hips to her lower back and down to squeeze her ass. He pulled her against him and Brienne abruptly jumped back. She’d felt him harden against her hip and got spooked. “Um...” 

“I’ll slow down,” he said. “I just don’t want to say goodnight yet.” 

Brienne nodded. She offered a small smile as he came nearer to her. His hands were a light, tender weight at her hips. He leaned forward and bent his head, kissing her neck and nipping at her earlobe. She felt herself melting and moaned. His going slow was no less arousing than moving too fast. She said something inaudible, unable to form coherent words. 

He groaned against her skin while his hands began to tug the hem of her blouse out from under the waistband of her pants. “I’ve been thinking about this shirt all fucking day.” 

“My shirt?” 

He laughed. “Well, taking it off.” He bit his bottom lip as he studied the way it wrapped around her, tugging at one layer and then the other. Jaime realized most of it was an illusion, and when he found a hidden row of snaps, he was able to peel the garment apart and reveal her long torso and a flesh-colored bra. Brienne’s arms were still in the sleeves when Jaime traced a line from her sternum to the space between her breasts. “Is this okay?” he asked. 

Breathless, she murmured, “Mmmhmm.” 

Jaime’s fingertip grazed across the silk and he made a noise – somewhere between a growl and a whimper – before bending to close his lips around the tip of one breast. He suckled and his teeth scraped across the sensitive skin through the thin scrap of fabric. He paid equal attention to the other, but unlike before he folded the silk down to reveal the pink, pebbled flesh. His tongue scalded her skin. 

It was not the first time a man had seen her breast bared, but it was the first time a man had taken her into his mouth. Brienne grabbed his head and directed him back there, clutching his hair while the tip of Jaime’s tongue circled her exposed nipple and lashed across the taut skin and rubbed the pink bud between his lips. She throbbed between her legs and touched herself through layers of clothing, thinking if they could remain like that for the rest of the night, she would die happy. But Jaime noticed her hand, and he began to loosen the button on her pants. 

“Stop,” she grunted, pushing his hand away. Of course, Jaime Lannister was the kind of person who could have sex with someone he hardly knew and barely liked. Of course, he could have sex with a woman he was not in a relationship with and disagreed with on everything but the virtue of diner food and trashy television. She’d gotten lost in the sensations and forgot she was _not_ that kind of person, and she could not possibly become that person with a man she blamed for Renly’s death and many other terrible things. Using him to gain experience and self-assurance, she realized, was not such a solid plan. 

Jaime did as she asked, taking a step back. “Are you okay?” 

She gathered her shirt closed around her chest. “Yes, but we need to stop.” 

He took a deep breath. “Okay. I hope... I hope I didn’t offend you?” 

Brienne shook her head. “No. I just...” If he were any other man, she would be at the point of wondering if she should spit out that she was a virgin and see if he ran away, or prolong the back and forth until they both burst at the seams. But Jaime wasn’t any man. She did not trust him with that information. “It’s only that... I don’t... I have feelings for someone else. It’s complicated. The two of us don’t even like each other, right?” She laughed awkwardly. 

“Yet, somehow, this keeps happening.” Jaime lifted his arm, his thumb brushing an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. “I actually like you quite a bit, Brienne.” He walked backward to the door. “Goodnight,” he said, before turning around and leaving. 

* 

Breakfast was served in the restaurant. Tywin’s team spilled into the room, looking ashen and angry, and filled the seats on one side. Catelyn’s team filled the other tables, looking bright and cheerful. 

Jaime and Brienne arrived within moments of each other looking somewhere in between. 

They met across the buffet table, each reaching for the last biscuit. “It’s yours,” Jaime said, and used the tongs to drop it on her plate. 

He watched her sit next to Theon and caught the other man looking down Brienne’s shirt every time she leaned forward to take a bite over her plate. 

Jaime caught her staring at him, but she looked away the second their eyes locked. He removed his phone and re-read a message she had sent Lion shortly after Jaime left her room. _I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch. I would very much like to plan another time to meet._

The room suddenly filled with Secret Service agents, and Brienne watched as The First Lady strode into the dining area with her three children. Her eyes found Jaime, and she caught the way he brightened as the kids ran to him. She watched him stand up and scoop the smallest boy into his arms and then bend his knees for the girl to climb onto his back. 

Brienne smiled until her cheeks were sore. She preferred Lion, but she had to admit Jaime had some redeeming qualities. If she told him the truth about her lack of sexual history, what reason would there be for him to spill the news to anyone? The revelation Catelyn Stark’s campaign manager was a virgin wouldn’t exactly sway voters or sell newspapers. It might be worth the risk to talk to him, Brienne thought; if a man like him could learn the truth and not react negatively or harshly, surely a man like Lion wouldn’t. 

* 

The room was still warm from the steam of the shower. Jaime slipped his arms into the sleeves of a clean shirt but left the buttons undone while he cooled off. He cleared the fog on the mirror with his hand and was about to dab shaving cream on his cheeks when he heard a knock at the door. He was expecting his father and made a disgusted face at his own reflection. 

Jogging across the room, Jaime swung the door open. “Brienne.” 

She was still wearing the leggings and V-neck T-shirt from breakfast. “Hi. May I come in?” 

“Of course,” he said, moving aside. He closed the door and turned toward her, amused at the way she tried to avert her eyes from his bare torso. 

“I wanted to talk about last night,” she told him. She paced back and forth several times. “I wasn’t lying when I said there is someone else. I never stopped talking to the guy I was supposed to meet in Evenfall. And last night, after you left, I sent him a message.” She paused, expecting a reaction – anger or jealousy – but Jaime seemed indifferent. 

He looked at her expectantly and suddenly remembered to react. “Oh,” he said disappointed. “You did?” 

She cleared her throat. “Yes. And I wanted to explain something. I’m not sure I like _you_ but I liked kissing you and... everything else. But it’s easier for me to... be that way with someone who can’t see me. Someone who can’t reject me.” 

“Brienne,” he said, “I had no intention of rejecting you.” 

“That’s what you think. But men always do.” 

“I’m not like other men.” 

She had to agree with him. “I’ve gone on dates, but I’ve never had a, uh, significant relationship.” 

“You have a commanding job.” 

“Yes, but it’s not only that." She took a deep breath, holding the air in her lungs until it hurt. “I’ve never slept with anyone before.” 

“Oh.” Jaime’s surprise passed quickly as he realized it explained a lot about not only Brienne, but what he knew of her as Sapphire. “I’m... surprised,” he said carefully. “But it doesn’t change anything. If you were interested, I would still want to kiss you. And more.” 

Her shoulders relaxed. She smiled, almost laughed. “Oh, gods. That was... scary." 

He smiled tenderly. He approached her and took her hand. “You were scared to tell me?” 

She nodded. “It usually sends men running. Afraid I’ll expect them to propose to me, I guess. Or maybe they think something is wrong with me.” 

It pained him to listen to her, to the doubt in her voice. “There is nothing wrong with you.” He paused. “Do you feel better?” 

Brienne nodded. She still had someone else to tell, although she felt better about it. 

He looked down at her hand, at her long, elegant fingers. “Well, your guy is very lucky. And you shouldn’t worry about how he’ll react.” He felt a stab of pain in his chest – guilt. She had entrusted him with deeply personal information. He decided it was time to tell her the truth about Lion. “I need to tell you something, too,” he confessed. 

She tucked her bottom lip under her teeth, worried. 

“It’s something good. At least I hope that’s what you’ll think. Maybe we sh-”A loud knock interrupted Jaime. “That’s probably my father.” 

"I don’t want him to know I was in here,” she said, worried about the implications if it got back to Catelyn or anyone on the staff. 

Jaime nodded in agreement. "Hold tight,” he said and hurried across the room. Through the peephole he saw two agents and opened the door enough to greet them. 

“The First Lady has requested your presence in her suite,” one of them said. 

Jaime waved Brienne over and said, “I’ll meet you by the pool in thirty minutes.” 

* 

The agent instructed Jaime to wait in the sitting room. He circled the space once, twice - stepping over a plastic bulldozer Tommen must have left out – and stopped to inspect an oversized flower arrangement by the window. 

Behind him, Cersei cleared her throat. 

He turned around and offered a meek wave. “I was expecting dad,” he said. 

“He asked me to talk to you.” 

“About?" 

She sat in an armchair and crossed her legs. She folded her hands over her knee. “You took too long, Jaime. We gave Varys a call last week and he is now in possession of Jon Stark’s birth certificate.” 

Jaime shook his head. “Cersei. You-” 

“It’s fake,” she said. “They are definitely hiding something and you’re going to help Varys get to the bottom of it.” 

Jaime hung his head. 

Cersei rose from her chair. She stood in front of Jaime, her fingers cold against his skin as she cupped his chin and lifted his head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but there’s no point pretending you’re above this. Don’t forget. You are a Lannister.” 

* 

Brienne was relieved when a family playing in the pool got out, gathered their things, and went inside. She sat in a chair under a table shaded by an umbrella. She was restless, switching to another seat, working through her complicated feelings. She hadn’t even met Lion, so she was certainly free to spend time with another man. Her college roommate had always said every experience helped prepare for the next. She moved to recline on a chaise lounge and then considered sitting on the edge of the pool. Before she could move again, Jaime appeared. 

“Hi,” she said, hopping up from the chaise. Her smile faded when she took note of his rather somber expression. His posture was off; his shoulders were slumped. Brienne’s heart raced, convinced he was going to announce that he’d given it some thought and her lack of sexual experience _was_ a problem for him, which would throw her into a spiral of doubt about how Lion would react. In some ways, it would be a relief if Jaime proved he was every bit the asshole she suspected him to be. How could she reconcile her attraction to a man she always knew of as hateful? 

Jaime gestured to a table with two chairs and they both sat down. He situated his to sit across from her, their knees pressed together. He bent at the waist and said, “I just had a meeting with my sister. She told me something and, uh, I will be fired and possibly banished from my family for sharing it with you, but...” 

“What?” 

“There was talk that Jon is not Catelyn’s son,” he told her, and Brienne’s lips parted with a small gasp of breath. “They wanted me to dig up some dirt. Evidence of Ned having an affair. Illegal adoption. Buying and selling babies. And if I couldn’t find anything, they wanted me to find a woman to claim she was Jon’s mother and Catelyn ruined her life and stole her baby and paid her to stay silent. Or something. I wouldn’t do it, so they found someone who would. You need to get out in front of the story. There’s a birth certificate floating around that appears to be fake.” 

She stood up and folded her hands at the back of her neck, elbows pointed out. She heard Jaime stand up behind her. 

“I’m sorry for this, Brienne.” 

She turned sharply, dropping her arms to her sides. “I guess I’m supposed to thank you?” 

He shrugged, shook his head. 

Brienne turned toward the door. 

“Wait,” he called out, hurrying to catch up to her. “There was something else I was going to-” 

“Not now,” she spat, continuing on and through the door. Away from him.


	6. Election

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime makes more than one confession to Brienne as the election draws to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be the last chapter, but I have an idea for an epilogue of sorts. :)

The election was in less than a week, and Tywin’s camp had decided to focus on voters in King’s Landing, Rosby, Driftmark, and other nearby cities and towns. The polls indicated the biggest split among voters was in the capitol, and they decided it was important to be seen with Robert and Cersei as much as possible – giving speeches in front of the house the next president would occupy, attending rallies. 

Jaime was seated at a table in a mostly empty King’s Landing Pub and Grille. He divided his attention between a beer, a burger, and his phone. He was hoping Brienne would contact him, either as herself or Sapphire. It had been almost two full days since he told her about the campaign’s plans to attack Catelyn, and while his father’s team was still hours away from releasing the information, the Stark campaign was silent. 

“Can I get another one of these?” Jaime asked, holding his beer up. He casually glanced at the television behind the bar and sputtered when he saw Catelyn walking toward a podium. “Wait, turn that up,” he said, darting closer. Catelyn was flanked by her husband and three oldest children, and in the distance, he spotted Brienne and Theon and other staffers. 

After a brief introduction, Catelyn began to speak. She said nice words about family and support and trust. “In the coming days,” she went on, “you may hear rumors about my family. There are people who wish to bring about a scandal and create drama. I’ve come here today with the support of my husband, Ned, and our older children, to share private information about our family. Believe me, I am not doing this because I think it is everyone’s business or that it impacts my ability to serve the country in any way. I’m sharing this information because I would rather you all hear it from me and not the evening news and Twitter and increasingly incorrect posts on Facebook.” She continued, saying that many years ago her husband’s sister went in an unfortunate direction and developed an addiction to drugs and alcohol. She gave birth to a baby boy and was gravely ill, and asked Ned and Catelyn to raise the boy as their own. “We said yes, of course, and adopted Jon. He has always known. All of our children know. But we never thought anyone else needed to. We wished to protect Ned’s sister’s privacy and give her memory the dignity it deserves.” 

Jaime realized he was smiling. It was a beautiful speech, and if anyone from Tywin’s camp tried to attack her now, they would only seem cruel and petty. There was nothing nefarious to report. 

“In conclusion,” Catelyn was saying, “there have been reports of a fake birth certificate floating around. It is, indeed, fake. We have Jon’s birth certificate safely at home with the rest of our children’s. We have adoption papers and never needed to create a false document of any kind.” 

The bartender suddenly changed the channel and Jaime said, “Hey, go back.” 

“The game is starting, man,” he replied. 

It didn’t matter; Jaime’s phone rang and he knew exactly what was coming his way. 

* 

Brienne had only been in King’s Landing for two hours and she wanted to use the last strings of daylight to enjoy the sun. 

She left her room at the hotel and ventured to the pool. It was fairly crowded, and she waded in the shallow end for a while, then swam laps and climbed out to claim an empty chaise lounge. The sky began to darken, the temperature dropped, and everyone slowly gathered their things and left. 

The two hot tubs were finally vacant, and Brienne carried her few belongings to the other side of the area. She sighed as she slowly submerged herself in the hot, bubbly water. She groaned when she heard commotion at the door and knew someone was going to interrupt her privacy and peace. 

That someone turned out to be Jaime Lannister, and within a few seconds of seeing him, Brienne knew he was drunk. 

“Hey!” he shouted, far too loud, and walked in a crooked line toward the hot tubs. He was wearing only a pair of swimming trunks and carried a bottle of beer in each hand. 

“Jaime,” she greeted him curtly. 

He dipped his foot in the water and then stepped in with both feet. 

“There is another tub!” Brienne snapped. 

“This one suits me fine.” 

She rolled her eyes and shifted further away. She could leave, but she didn’t want him to ruin her plans. She wouldn’t give him that power. “You’re drunk.” 

“Getting there,” he said and took a long swig from one of the bottles. “Want this one?” he asked, holding the second one aloft. 

Brienne shook her head. 

“Fine,” he said, setting it behind him. “You did good,” he said after a moment. 

“What?” 

Jaime sank lower in the bubbling water. “Stark’s statement.” 

“I didn’t write it.” 

“No, but you took what I said and... you made it so my father couldn’t say a fucking word.” 

Brienne didn’t respond, and Jaime looked at her a long time. She was uncomfortable under his stare and soon realized she probably looked naked under the water wearing a strapless top. Brienne sat up straighter so the bandeau showed above the water line. 

“Did you hear?” he asked, and when she made no attempt to respond he said, “I got fired.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be! It’s great! I mean, I don’t know where I’ll spend Christmas, but at least I’ll never be asked to dig up dirt on someone or paid to ruin lives.” 

Brienne made a move to leave but the tone of Jaime’s voice when he said, “I’m not sorry I told you,” made her remain where she was. 

“You said this would happen,” she pointed out. 

He drained what was left of his beer and discarded the bottle, reaching for the next one. 

Brienne could tell he was slurring and his eyes were slanted and she said, “I changed my mind. Can I have that?” 

He shrugged and held it out to her. 

She took the beer and set it behind her. 

“In my family you get rewarded for being terrible. But you have to be good at being terrible. And you can’t give a shit what other people think about you,” Jaime told her. 

“I suppose you have a lot of experience with that,” she remarked. 

He tilted his head back and laughed. “You mean Aerys. That fucker was crazy. You think I ruined his life and his career so I could get my sister’s husband in the door and then my father. But you have no fucking idea just like the rest of the world.” He attempted to stand but only made it up onto his knees. “He was going to kill them all.” 

Brienne blinked. “Kill them? Who?” 

Jaime punched the water in frustration. “The North...ern...ers.” 

“The entire North? Aerys was going to kill the entire North?” 

“Beyond the fucking wall,” he clarified. “The Wildings.” 

Brienne hadn’t heard the moniker in years. It had become somewhat of a derogatory term to describe the indigenous people that inhabited the far North. There were people, fewer and fewer as time went on, who wanted to tear down a wall that separated the far North from everything else. People who wanted to take over the land. People who saw the inhabitants as less than others, and as preventing economic growth in Westeros. They wanted to plow through the wilderness and build shopping centers and theme parks and whatever else could generate money. And there were some people who simply hated them for the fact they were different. 

“Jaime,” she said, “what do you mean? What are you talking about?” 

“Aerys,” he said. “He was mad. He had plans. He built the technology. He was going to bomb them all. ‘Burn them all,’ he said. ‘Burn them in their homes. In their beds.’ He was obsessed with bombs and fire and he hated them. I knew if I told someone, Aerys would get rid of it all and I’d be a liar and it would sound like _my_ plan.” He hiccuped, holding his breath for a beat before he went on to say, “I had to find a way to make sure he couldn’t stay in that job. Something people could believe without proof.” Jaime stood, splashing the water, and mumbled something Brienne couldn’t understand. 

She caught enough to know he was saying something about the man’s children, that perhaps it was better for them to think of their father as troubled and mentally ill than inhumane. She jumped to her feet and had her arms around Jaime before he fell. Cradling him, she bent her knees and sank back into the water. “Jaime,” she shouted. “Jaime, wake up.” 

His eyes fluttered. “Do you... believe... me?” 

Brienne nodded. 

“He’s not who you think.” 

“Aerys?” 

“No,” was a rasp of breath on his lips. “Him. I’m... him.” 

She was scared he was going to pass out if she didn’t get him out of the heat. “Shh,” she whispered. “You’re not making sense.” She hoisted him up with her, holding onto him while she climbed over the side of the tub. The door opened behind her and she yelled, “Over here! Help me get him out.” 

* 

Jaime woke in his hotel room bed and squinted against the intrusive sunlight. His head throbbed. He rolled and leaned over the edge of the bed, feeling like he was going to throw up. Pieces of the previous night came back to him, and he found the strength to sit and called out, “Brienne?” 

He was met by silence but noticed a piece of paper on the bedside table, pinned down by a glass of water. There were a few loose pills as well, and he recognized them as ibuprofen and antacids. Jaime smiled and downed the pills and all of the water. He picked up the note. 

_Jaime, _

_I hope you don’t feel too bad. I won’t say I’m sorry you lost your job. Your family employed you to be a terrible man. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were helping me when you told me the truth about the Starks and Jon. Now I might be one of the only people that understands you might actually be a good man. _

_I wasn’t trying to snoop, but I had to clear things off your bed. I saw a draft of the letter you’re writing to The Post. Please don’t publicly apologize for your family’s role in Renly’s death and what almost happened with Catelyn. I want her to win fairly. But I appreciate the gesture. _

_-B_

* 

Election day arrived and brought with it an unusual storm in the North – high winds, hail – and the campaigns were faced with the challenge of drawing voters out in bad weather. Brienne sent a volunteer to buy cheap umbrellas and ponchos, and a staffer who drove a large van offered to serve as a shuttle to the polls. 

The entire Stark family and most of the campaign staff occupied one large room at the mansion in Winterfell. Ned had brought in a movie theater screen and they watched the news on it. The race was tighter than they’d expected for several hours, but soon Catelyn maintained enough of a lead that no one was concerned. 

In between phone calls and news updates, Brienne received a message from Lion. He wanted to know if she would be willing to meet him and said he would go anywhere she was. With things looking good for Catelyn, Brienne responded that she would soon be in King’s Landing and they scheduled a time and place to meet. 

It was after midnight when Catelyn Stark was declared the winner and everyone, including the small children, leapt to their feet. Confetti was thrown and balloons were released toward the ceiling. Theon spilled champagne on Brienne and Robb gave his little brother a bloody nose with an overly enthusiastic high-five. The chaos and joy were powerful, but Brienne slipped out of the room after a while. 

Theon found her in the kitchen, dabbing her shirt where it was damp from the champagne. “Sorry about that, boss,” he told her. 

“Boss?” 

“You will be. You know she’s going to make you Chief of Staff, right?” 

Brienne’s heart swelled in her chest. “What? No. You think?” 

“Think? I’m sure of it. Who else would it be?” 

She smiled and dropped the towel to run toward him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. 

Theon’s arms closed around her and his lips sought hers. The kiss lasted longer than Brienne intended – her reflexes slowed down by champagne and excitement and lack of sleep. She slipped a hand between their chests and gave him a gentle shove. 

“Oh, hey. I’m sorry,” he said. “I got caught up in-” 

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay. It’s just that... I’m your boss now.” Her tone was serious, but they both erupted in laughter once she broke into a grin. 

Theon left and Brienne slipped her phone out of her pocket. It was ringing and she had countless texts and email alerts and missed calls – her father, the press – and Brienne was shocked to realize that all she wanted was to hear from Jaime. 

* 

Jaime kept the note from Brienne in his wallet. Every time he had an awkward phone call with his father or couldn’t even get a job interview, he removed the scrap of paper and read it over and over (…_a good man_). He was reading while he waited for Tyrion from their usual table at their favorite King’s Landing restaurant. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Tyrion said as he arrived at the table. 

Jaime quickly slipped the paper back into his wallet. “Not a problem. I have nothing but time these days.” 

Tyrion laughed uproariously. “I have to say, it feels nice not to be the most hated Lannister brother for once.” 

“I’ve been thinking you had it right all these years. Keep your distance. Being in on things isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” 

“How _did_ this happen?” Tyrion asked. 

Jaime couldn’t control the wide, goofy grin that upturned the corners of his mouth. 

“A woman?” Tyrion guessed. 

“For the most part.” 

Tyrion waved for the nearest server and said, “We’re going to need two of your finest beers and keep them coming.” He looked at Jaime. “Do tell.” 

Jaime recapped his experience with the dating app and conversing with the woman who called herself Sapphire. He described encountering Brienne along the campaign trail and slowly finding her more and more appealing. “I had plans to meet Sapphire. When I arrived, I realized something. Sapphire was-” 

“Brienne?” Tyrion guessed with a dramatic gasp. 

“Yes.” 

“What did she say? What happened?” 

Jaime shrugged. “Nothing, really. See, Tyrion, Brienne hated me. Loathed me and everything I stood for. Everything she thought she knew about me. I couldn’t let her know that I was Lion. I couldn’t risk losing her completely.” 

“She still doesn’t know?” 

He shook his head. “I’m supposed to meet her tomorrow. They have events all day and then she’s supposed to meet Lion at the park. The thing is, things have changed between _me_ and Brienne. For the better. I think.” He sighed. “I don’t know. It’s still a risk, but the longer I let it go on the more she’s going to be angry with me for hiding the truth. I just hope she’s come to like _me_ enough that she can forgive me for keeping this a secret.” 

* 

Blackwater Park was almost eight hundred acres of verdant grass and gardens, lakes and bridges, sculptures and monuments, and a cliffside view of Blackwater Bay. The message from Lion said to meet at the statue of Galladon of Morne, which was only feet away from the Bay. But when Brienne arrived, she only saw a family and an older couple sitting on the marble ledge surrounding the structure. 

She had come straight from a long day of celebratory events with Catelyn and the staff. Her feet were throbbing inside her high-heeled pumps so she bent to take them off. The pantsuit she was wearing cost four month’s rent – a pair of pale blue, fitted trousers and a matching long tuxedo jacket with satin trim – so she didn’t want to sit on a dirty bench, or worse, the grass. Brienne was almost too high on triumph to be angry if Lion stood her up again. Her career was strong and she had a promising future, and ever since his confession, thoughts of Jaime played on a loop in her head. Part of her wondered if she wanted Lion to be a no-show, freeing her completely to pursue her growing interest in Jaime. 

She looked toward the fence that lined the cliff’s edge. The sun was sinking lower in the sky and if she had wasted a trip to the park, she might as well watch the sunset over the water. Brienne began walking, her pumps dangling from one hand. 

The view from the cliff was breathtaking. Brienne was caught up in the scene and almost didn’t hear her phone chime. She had a message from Lion. _I think I see you. I’m not far away now. Sorry to make you wait._

Not far away, Jaime walked a generous hill toward the statue. As he got closer, Brienne came into view, her back to him as she looked out at the water. He thought it only happened in romance novels and songs, but his heart skipped a beat. The outfit she wore was a beautiful shade of blue, reminiscent of her eyes. She turned around and he saw that she wasn’t wearing a shirt under the jacket and the cut of the lapels offered a long, narrow view of her bare skin. She was a goddess on the hill – a tall, strong silhouette against a peach-colored sky darkening with wisps of plum. Jaime caught the brief, delighted smile she flashed when her eyes landed on him, before they narrowed in confusion. 

“Jaime?” she called out. 

“Hello,” he answered, although he wasn’t sure if he had actually vocalized anything; his heart was hammering in his chest and it was the only sound he could hear. He advanced toward her. He revealed a boquet of blue ocean breeze orchids he’d been hiding behind his back. “Thank you for meeting me.” 

“But I-” She paused, her eyes widening. “Wait.” Her face cycled through a range of emotions. “Lion? _You’re_ Lion?” 

“Jaime,” he told her. “My name is Jaime.” 

Brienne’s lips parted and moved, trying to form words until she was finally able to say, “I don’t... you knew? That it would be me here?” 

He nodded. 

“When? How did you... Seaworth’s. Lion _was_ there. _You_ were there.” 

“I got scared. You were not exactly a member of the Jaime Lannister fan club. I was afraid if you realized I was Lion, you’d stop talking to me _and_ to him. I’m sorry, Brienne. I took a chance. I don’t blame you for being angry with me. I came here knowing you might never want to see me again.” 

She took a step backward. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip. Brienne thought about all of the times she had wished a man who looked like Jaime Lannister and treated her the way Lion did would manifest and love her in return. It made sense, how she began to see Jaime differently and question the nature of her feelings for him. She asked herself – if she had found out the truth first, would she have wanted him to know she was Sapphire? Would she have been afraid the knowledge of her true identity would send him running? 

Brienne approached him. “Jaime,” she whispered, reaching up to frame his face with her hands. 

He looped his arms around her waist, holding the flowers against the small of her back. 

She looked into his eyes and said, “I think... I think I wanted it to be you,” and pulled him toward her until their mouths met. The kiss was soft and slow, but the tenderness gave way to passion – Jaime was bending the delicate flowers with the force of his grip and the whimper that vibrated at the back of Brienne’s throat was indecent for a public place. They slowly disentangled, blushing and smiling. 

“Would you have a drink with me?” Jaime asked. 

* 

The drink was from a bottle of Merlot in Jaime’s hotel suite. Their shoes had been kicked off by the door, and Brienne sipped the wine as Jaime sat beside her on the sofa. They filled the silence with nervous small talk, dancing around their feelings and desires until she changed course and said, “I want you, Jaime.” She flushed at the uninhibited honesty of her words; there was no going back from the admission. But he knew so much about her; he wasn’t a stranger. There was no reason to worry he would learn the truth about her and flee. She didn’t need to feel bad about liking a man like him. Everything was out in the open. 

Jaime set his glass down and scooted closer until their knees touched. He lifted his hand to cup her chin, tilting her head back until their eyes met. “No more secrets?” he asked. 

Brienne nodded her agreement and said, “No more secrets.” 

He leaned forward to kiss her. No longer bound to the propriety of a public location, their mouths and hands were eager. Jaime grasped her hips, moving to stand and urging Brienne to her feet along with him. They wrapped their arms around one another and moved blindly toward the bed, spinning and colliding with furniture and the wall before she felt the soft edge of the bed against the back of her legs. 

Tangled together, they collapsed onto the mattress, their bodies bouncing before settling across the middle. Side by side, they locked eyes and smiled. “You’re sure?” Jaime asked. 

“Yes,” she said, breathy, punctuating her response with a kiss. She rolled Jaime onto his back and slowly lifted herself, straddling him. Brienne’s hands were shaky as she rolled the hem of his shirt up toward his chest, and he lifted his shoulders from the bed to help yank it up and over his head. Her hands explored his newly bared skin, and she was comforted to realize that his heart was beating wildly beneath the palm of her hand, perhaps even more erratic than her own. 

Happy to be trapped beneath her, Jaime lifted his hands to undo the buttons of her jacket. He drew in a ragged breath as he slowly parted the lapels, revealing her small, pert breasts. He settled his hand in the valley between her breasts, dragging his palm down, feeling her quiver beneath the weight of his hand. 

The remainder of their clothes were removed in a way that seemed both tantalizingly slow and too hurried. They were both hungry for one another but also wanted to make the moment last, and to remember every second of every caress and kiss. 

Brienne ended up on her back in the middle of the bed. She vacillated between a kind of amused embarrassment and surprising boldness – covering her eyes with the back of her hand one minute, sliding those same hands down to cup Jaime’s ass the next. When he settled between her thighs and their eyes locked and she felt him hard against her, for her, she lost all reservations about the intimacy and her desirability and what her lack of experience meant. She gasped when Jaime stroked her flesh, his thumb drawing light circles around her clit and his fingers filling and stretching her. Her body responded to his – her legs opened wider around him, she trembled at the pleasure his touch sparked. 

His eyes caught hers and he smiled. She lifted her head from the pillow to capture his lips in a searing kiss, the weight of their mouths muffling the way Brienne moaned and Jaime grunted as he replaced his fingers with his cock, slowly and carefully moving inside her. There was a brief moment of discomfort – stretching, stinging – before the pleasure consumed her. Any lingering doubts faded as Brienne instinctively moved beneath him, bucking her hips in rhythm with his every thrust. 

Jaime was gentle and patient, and together they discovered she whimpered when his lips found a tender patch of skin at her neck and she quivered when he lightly dragged his fingertips along her ribcage. She soon encouraged a less careful speed and touch, and they used the entire bed and ended up on the floor, and Brienne was happy to draw a comparison between the way Jaime made love and the way he sparred with her at the gym – intense, focused, an arousing energy that left her breathless and satisfied but wanting more. 

When they finally collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs and linens on the floor, it took several minutes for each of them to catch their breath. They were sated and slick with sweat. Jaime’s head rested on her chest and one of her long legs was hooked around his. He found his voice and confessed, “I was certain you would hate me for hiding the truth." 

“I can’t be angry.” 

“Why?” he asked. “I would understand if you were.” 

“I wanted him to be you. Or you to be him," Brienne said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re exactly the right person, Jaime.”


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look into Jaime and Brienne's lives after the reveal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and leaving kudos/comments. I truly enjoyed writing this story and am so glad it found a little audience. 
> 
> Life got in the way of me finishing this when I meant to, but I wanted to write a short look into where Jaime and Brienne go from their encounter at the park.

The house had more unpacked boxes than pieces of furniture. Every time Brienne woke early or came home from work with the intention of getting her new house in order, Jaime was there to distract her. They never said he lived with her, but several of the boxes had his name on them and one shelf of the medicine cabinet held his toothbrush and deodorant and cologne. 

* 

Jaime had been calling himself her unemployed boyfriend for three months, and in that time, sex remained new and exciting. Brienne grew bolder and more confident, and he benefited greatly from the shift. 

He needed to feel useful, though, when she was away at the office. He arranged for the delivery of a sofa Brienne had her eye on, stocked the kitchen with pots and pans, and surprised her by unpacking several boxes. She returned home from work and was excited about the sofa and what he had done with the kitchen. 

Jaime sat down on the new piece of furniture, resting his feet on the matching ottoman, while Brienne went to the bedroom to change. She stomped back into the room wearing only an oversized T-shirt and socks and barked, “What did you do with all of my stuff?” 

He muted the television and tilted his head back to look at her. 

“I can’t find my leggings.” 

“They’re in the middle dresser drawer,” Jaime told her. 

“Okay, but that’s not the point,” she said, as though they had already been engaged in a discussion. 

He recognized her tone and heaved a sigh. He settled his bare feet on the polished wood floor and sat up straight. “What is the point?” 

“I didn’t ask you to unpack my clothes.” 

“You’ve been living out of those boxes. I thought you’d appreciate everything having its place.” 

Brienne rolled her eyes. “The couch is a nice surprise because I already said that is the couch I want. But you didn’t ask where I wanted my clothes.” 

Jaime laughed and shook his head. “Well, asking would have defeated the purpose of surprising you.” 

She moved to stand in front of him, hands on her hips. “This is not something you surprise a person with. I have a certain way I like to-” Brienne went silent. Their eyes were locked in a heated stare, and her pulse quickened and all of Jaime’s blood rushed to between his legs. It always happened when they argued or debated something – back and forth, back and forth, until they were both overcome with a look of hunger for the other. 

Brienne threw herself at him, climbing onto his lap. She clasped her hands around his face and their mouths met in a wild, deep kiss. She lifted the shirt over her head and tossed it aside, and Jaime leaned forward to open his mouth around the tip of her breast. 

* 

The inaugural ball was Jaime and Brienne’s first public appearance as a couple. Their romance was the worst kept secret in King’s Landing, but most people were polite enough to pretend it was a surprise to see them together. 

Jaime enjoyed seeing her celebrate her professional achievement and prepare for the official start of her role as Catelyn Stark’s Chief of Staff. His favorite part of the evening, though, was climbing into the back of the limousine to ride home. 

Brienne had surprised even herself by deciding to wear a gown. It was black and the hem reached her ankles. The dress was strapless with a cinched waist, and Jaime had spent most of the evening with his hand resting in the middle of the back – partly touching the fabric and partly touching her bare skin. Occasionally making her squirm by dipping the tip of his finger beneath the cloth. 

He picked up her hand where it rested on the seat between them. 

“What?” she asked, playfully wary of his expression. 

“I think you should run for president,” he said. “I can be the... First Gentleman. I do need a job.” 

Brienne laughed. “I would be afraid the opposition would find out I met you on a dating app.” 

“But you didn’t. Not completely.” 

“Well, then, I’d be worried they’d leak some scandalous story about how I fucked you in the back of a limo.” 

Jaime said, “But we’ve never had sex in a lim-” He paused. “Oh. Hmm.” 

Brienne made sure the partition separating them from the driver was pushed all the way up. She hit the button on the speaker and asked the chauffer not to take them home yet, but rather drive around the city. Soon, Jaime’s bowtie was hanging open around his neck and the first several buttons were open, her lipstick leaving smears of pink on the bared skin. She straddled him and he tugged the neckline of her dress until it slipped beneath her breasts. The back of the limo was roomy and accommodated their heights, whether she was kneeling on the floor between his legs or stretched across the seat on her back with Jaime on top. 

* 

The first time Jaime said he loved her they were in the kitchen slicing lemons for the cocktails they were going to serve the guests seated outside on the patio. Brienne’s hand slipped when she lifted her gaze to where he stood on the other side of the counter. The blade of the knife nicked her finger and he said, “Shit, I’m sorry,” as he rushed to her side to inspect the wound. 

Jaime gingerly held her hand. There was quite a lot of blood but she barely noticed, and it would be a while before Brienne would feel the sting. The tears shining in her eyes had nothing to do with the injury. “I love you too,” she told him. 

* 

Brienne told Jaime she didn’t want any fanfare on her nameday, but that morning she woke to the smell of bacon and waffles and a wall of streamers hanging from the bedroom doorway. 

He brought the food, and a mug of coffee, on a tray to the bedroom. She spotted a small box with a blue ribbon tied around it and her heart fluttered in her chest. It was the right size and shape for a ring, and in a matter of seconds Brienne held a conversation with herself about whether or not she was ready for a marriage proposal. 

“You can open the gift first,” Jaime said, taking note of how her eyes lingered on the box. 

She picked it up and slowly untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. What she saw was almost more overwhelming than an engagement ring would have been – a small, gold lion’s head with a sapphire gripped between its teeth. 

* 

She wore the ring constantly and bought a matching pair of cuff links for Jaime. He wore them the day he was hired to join Samwell Tarly’s staff as the young man began a campaign to run for the Senate. 

The sapphire sparkled in the sunlight while they dined on the patio, celebrating his new job. Brienne looked at the ring and remarked with a nervous laugh that when she first saw the gift, she thought Jaime was going to propose marriage. 

“Would you have said yes?” he wanted to know. 

She surprised herself by answering, without a moment’s hesitation, “Yes.” 

Jaime smiled ear to ear, thinking of the diamond ring he had purchased at the same time as the lion and sapphire. He had the inside of the band engraved with the words _I wanted it to be you._


End file.
